How To Relate
by tiffaroolou
Summary: Tony's been getting threatening letters and the team is worried, but Tony isn't taking them seriously. Then come the attempts on his life. Could the new girl at NCIS be involved? And will a secret from Tony's past be revealed in the search? COMPLETE
1. Big 'D' Little 'i' Big 'N' Little 'ozzo'

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating: **T just to be safe

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. NCIS is not mine, nor any of it's characters (sadly).

**Chapter 1 **

**Big 'D' Little 'i' Big 'N' Little 'ozzo'**

**

* * *

**

A man stepped out of his D.C. apartment building Monday morning. He was tall and athletic looking with brown hair and green eyes and he carried a backpack slung over one shoulder. _Click._

From across the street an expensive looking camera used a telephoto lens to zoom in. _Click. Click. _The man whistled as he patted his pockets, searching for his keys. _Click._

He hurried down a set of stairs toward a Camaro parked out front. _Click. Click, click._ As he got into his car, the man looked over his shoulder, uneasy for some reason, but saw nothing out of place. _Click._

Shrugging off the strange feeling, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo started up his car and drove away.

* * *

_Ding_. Tony stepped out of the elevator to the sounds of his coworkers arguing. He grinned to himself as he made out what they were saying.

"I saw the way you look at her, McGee. You think she is attractive, do you not?" Ziva inquired, leaning somewhat invasively over McGee's desk as she spoke.

McGee sighed. "Ziva, I'm trying to work."

"Just admit it and I will not tell Tony," she pressed.

"Morning, my little Probies!" Tony dropped his coat and backpack by his chair before joining them at McGee's desk.

"Just drop it, Ziva," McGee continued, ignoring Tony.

"Why yes, I had a good weekend. Thanks for asking." Tony leaned up against the wall casually.

Ziva eyed McGee as though she were sizing up a suspect in interrogation. "We both know you will tell me eventually. You may as well tell me now. Make it... easier."

"Oh, not much, just watched a couple movies, caught a Magnum marathon," Tony frowned as his co-workers still failed to acknowledge him, "won the lottery, made out with Jessica Alba, and got abducted by aliens. Stop me anytime."

"And _why _would I want to make it easier for you?" McGee asked, unimpressed.

"I meant easier for _you_, McGee."

Ziva flashed her widest, most predatory smile.

McGee gulped.

"Ok, that's it!" Tony cut in loudly. "I demand to be let into this conversation."

The other two seemed to notice him for the first time.

"Ziva, why are you torturing McTim? And, more importantly, why did you start without me?"

"McGee has a squash on a new girl," Ziva announced.

Tony looked confused. "What?"

"She means a crush, Tony," McGee told him.

"Aha!" Ziva folded her arms smugly. "So, you admit it then, McGee."

McGee rolled his eyes. "Ok, first of all," he said, "I didn't admit anything. And second, I really am trying to work, so if you don't mind-"

Tony raised his eyebrows mischievously. "Ziva, methinks the Probie doth protest too much."

Ziva matched his look with her own. "I agree. But you and I are both skilled interrogators. He will talk."

"Oh, come on, you guys," McGee groaned.

"Spill, McLoverboy. Who is it? Tell us. Is she hot? Give me some details." Tony planted himself on the edge of McGee's desk expectantly.

"I know who she is," Ziva informed him, ignoring McGee's betrayed glare. "It is the girl who began working in the mail room a couple weeks ago. Her name is Alison, yes?"

"Alison... about 26, 5'8", long blonde hair, green eyes, big smile, right?" asked Tony.

"You have met her?"

"No. Just have a good memory. Particularly when it comes to females."

"Well, I have caught McGee staring at this Alison every morning as she comes through. You would have noticed, Tony, if you were not always late."

"I am not _always _late!" Tony argued indignantly.

"You are late often enough that you have missed Alison delivering the mail and McGee looking at her with gooey eyes for the entire week," Ziva pointed out.

"I think you mean goo-goo eyes, Zee-vah, and just so you know, if I get here before Gibbs it doesn't count as late."

Ziva brushed that technicality aside with a wave of her hand. "Whatever. The point is that McGee definitely likes her."

McGee scoffed. "Ok, just because I happen to think she's attractive does _not_ necessarily mean that I like her."

"Oh? Really?" Ziva appeared unmoved by his claim.

"Yes Ziva, really," he insisted. "You're not accusing Tony of having a crush and I'll bet he thinks she's hot too."

"I don't know, Probie-san. Generally I'd say yes, but this chick is practically a dead ringer for my dad's half-brother's daughter Donna. Dating someone who looks so much like my cousin would be too wierd. I mean, we used to play together as kids. Practically grew up together, for a while." Tony shrugged. "But _you_ should go for it McGee."

"Here she comes now with the mail," Ziva proclaimed in a stage whisper.

"Don't look at her!" hissed McGee. "She'll know we were talking about her."

Tony laughed. "You have got it bad, kid. Why don't you just go talk to her?"

McGee sighed. "It's just that, well, I'm pretty sure she's out of my league."

"No, she is not," Ziva assured him.

"Maybe she is, McGeek, but it's never stopped me. Girls like confidence and it takes a lot of confidence to approach a girl like that," Tony reasoned.

McGee smiled slowly. "Well, maybe you guys are right."

"You know," Tony mused, "you'd think I'd get tired of hearing that but it never gets old. Hey, you should tell her you're an Elf Lord. That ought to impress her." He winked as McGee shot him a dirty look.

Just then Alison approached the three with her mail cart.

"Here is your chance, McGee," whispered Ziva. "Say something."

"Um… hi, there. You're… Alison, right?" asked McGee.

"Yup. Well, actually I go by Ali." She gave a dazzling smile, clearly waiting for the team to introduce themselves.

"I'm… uh… I'm…" McGee temporarily forgot his name, only remembering as he received a sharp elbow to the ribs from Ziva. "Ow! I'm Agent McGee. That is, I mean, you can call me Tim."

"I am Agent David." Ziva smiled politely.

"And I'm Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Or Tony, if you like." Tony flashed his mega-watt grin.

Ali gave a start when Tony spoke to her and dropped the pile of mail she had been holding. Stammering an apology, she bent to gather it up. Tony reached down for a package that had landed near his feet and held it out to her. Ali just stared at him for a second before seeming to catch herself. She blushed furiously as she took the package and placed it back in the cart.

"Sorry about that. I'm still new at this, and sometimes I'm a little clumsy. But of course, you guys know that. I mean, that I'm new, not that I'm clumsy. How would you know _that_?" Ali laughed nervously, twisting a lock of hair between her fingers.

The group stood in awkward silence for a few seconds before Ziva asked pointedly, "Did we get any mail, Ali?"

"Oh, right. There's one letter here for Agent DiNozzo. Er, Tony," she corrected herself. "Looks like that's all."

Ali didn't meet the senior field agent's eyes as she quickly handed him the letter and then pushed her cart toward the next section of desks.

"Well, that was kinda weird. I wonder if— Yow!" Tony gave a yelp as Ziva grabbed his ear and began pulling him away from McGee's desk. "Hey! What was that for?"

"You could not just let McGee talk with her?" Ziva demanded. "You had to flirt with the girl you knew he likes?"

"What?" Tony protested. "Ok, that was _not _'flirting'. I was just being friendly."

"A little too friendly, Tony." Ziva let go of Tony and put her hands on her hips, frowning.

"Yeah, Tony. Thanks a lot," grumbled McGee.

"It's the DiNozzo charm," Tony protested, rubbing his ear. "It was involuntary! Subconscious, even. Besides, now you and Al-ee," he emphasized the shortened version of her name as he waggled his eyebrows at McGee, "are on a first name basis. Come on, huh? That's progress."

"Tony, she has been staring at _you_ since she left," Ziva accused.

"Really?" As soon as Tony glanced over, Ali hurriedly turned to her cart and shuffled through a pile of letters, covertly peeking up once through her hair. "So it's my fault for being charming?"

"Yeah, sure. That's it, Tony," McGee sarcastically replied as he quickly turned to his computer and began typing.

"Naturally." Ziva chuckled as she sat at her desk and busily opened a file.

"Charming," Tony paused dramatically in the center of the room, throwing his arms in the air, "is part of who I am, people! Why am I wrong for being charming? No one gets on Gibbs' case for being cranky."

"Is that so, DiNozzo?" Gibbs' voice came from right behind him.

Tony froze, then turned with a short laugh, "Hey Boss! As I was just saying, no one gets on your case for being cranky. Probably because you're not. And because no one gets on your case, period. Not that they're afraid of you or anything." He winced in anticipation of a headslap and was not disappointed. "Maybe they just don't want to risk the head trauma," he muttered, slinking back to his desk.

Tony stuck his tongue out at a smirking Ziva as he sat down. Suddenly remembering the letter he was holding, he went to open it and then stopped. The lettering on the outside was familiar.

"Um, guys?" Tony began, "I think this is one of those letters."

"Another one, Tony?" McGee asked in disbelief.

"Yes, 'another one,'" Tony mimicked as he shook the envelope next to his ear. "Ooh, what have we here? This one sounds different."

"Well, you know what to do DiNozzo, take it down to Abby." Gibbs took a long swallow of his coffee.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm on it, Boss. See if he slipped up and left us any fingerprints this time. I don't really see why this is such a big deal. It's probably a joke. I mean, who could hate this face?" Tony beamed endearingly.

"A joke, Tony?" McGee shook his head. "Any threat made to a federal agent is taken seriously. And need I remind you of the last time we went through your enemies list?"

Tony scowled. "No, Probie, you needn't."

"Are you still here DiNozzo?" Gibbs barked.

"Going right now Boss," called Tony as he dashed off toward the elevator.


	2. A Picture's Worth A Thousand Words

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating: **T just to be safe

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. NCIS is not mine, nor any of it's characters (sadly). I would so love to have a Tony of my own! :D

**Chapter 2 **

**A Picture's Worth A Thousand Words**

**

* * *

**

"Abbs?" Tony called loudly as he entered the forensics lab. "Hey, Abby?"

The cheery Goth bounded out of the back room and turned down her music. "Hey Tony! What's up?"

He wordlessly showed her the envelope.

"Again? Are you serious? How many does that make now?"

"Nine. Or is it ten?" he shrugged. "I forget."

"Tony, Tony, Tony." Abby shook her head as she held out her Caf-Pow free hand for the letter. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Just love me Abbs."

Abby laughed. "Aw, you know I do."

"Seriously Abbs, when's the last time we hung out? We need to have a movie night or something."

"Yeah, ok Tony, sometime when I'm not trying to figure out who's been sending you these many and assorted death threats."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Abby, it's not that big of a deal."

"It is _so_ a big deal Tony. Whoever is writing these really hates your guts. And there is absolutely no forensic evidence on any of these letters to help us figure out who did it or even to narrow it down, cuz let's face it, the list of people who have a grudge against you is pretty long, and it's making me worried that something is going to happen to you. Not that my worrying about you is unusual. You know I always worry about you guys but it's just that _usually _I don't know ahead of time that I should be worried about one of you specifically so it's just a general worry. This time it's definitely a premeditated worry."

He gave a grin at her little tirade. "Calm down Abbs. Lots of people hate me. So what?"

"So what? Tony!" she began in a stern tone, setting down her drink in order to point at him with one gloved finger. "If you think, for one second-"

They were suddenly interrupted as the mail cart rolled noisily into the room.

"Abby! Hey I've been meaning to ask you someth-" Ali broke off as she saw Tony. "Um, here's your mail, Abby. Bye." She handed Abby a stack of mail and the next second she had swiftly disappeared back through the door.

Abby looked puzzled. "Well, that was kinda hinky."

"I think maybe she's kind of shy," explained Tony.

"Ali? Shy? No way! She's probably one of the most outgoing people I know, and I only met her last week. You know she just moved here from Chicago? She usually stays to talk to me for a few minutes. Maybe she had to be somewhere."

"Actually, it might be me." Tony admitted.

"You? Why, what did you do? Did you make some sort of sexist comment? Although I didn't think Ali was the type to be overly sensitive." Abby paused for a second, thinking. "But then, I guess I don't actually know her that well. Tony, if you hurt her feelings you need to apologize."

"I didn't do anything," he objected. "Well, if you ask Ziva, I was flirting, but I wasn't."

"You? Not flirting? Sure."

"I really was just being friendly," Tony insisted, "and then she dropped her packages and I helped her with them. She seemed really nervous when I talked to her and then she kept staring at me and pretending that she wasn't."

Abby laughed. "Tony, it sounds like she likes you."

Tony stared at her, seeming aghast. "Don't say that Abby. I mean, I guess we knew it was inevitable, DiNozzo charm and all, but McGee likes her."

"Aw, but you and Ali would be so darn cute together. You both have such nice smiles and those bright green eyes and good bone structure and you're both tall."

"Yeah, Abbs. She looks just like my cousin Donna."

"Really?" Abby thought for a moment. "Have I seen a picture of her?"

"Yeah, it's that one from my 8th birthday party. You know, where I'm on the horse? Donna would've been about 10. She looks different now."

"No, they do look alike. I can see that." Her eyes widened. "Maybe it's a sign."

"For what, inbreeding?" Tony scoffed.

Abby regarded him seriously. "No Tony. I am taking this as a cosmic sign that you and Ali are meant to be in each other's lives. You two are going to be good friends. Maybe even more."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Ok, Abbs. How about you just work on the letter?"

"You mock me now, but you just wait and see," Abby answered mulishly.

"Abby."

Abby heaved a huge sigh. "Fine, I'm working. You're such a taskmaster Tony. Sometimes I swear you channel Gibbs." She turned her attention to the letter in her hand. "So do you want to stay and watch me open it?"

"Why? Is there something special about the way you open it?"

"Well, yeah Tony. Don't you remember that time when some crazy lady sent us an envelope full of plague?"

"Gee, no Abby. I guess I'd forgotten all about that." Tony deadpanned.

Abby spared him an amused smirk. "Your sarcasm is noted. However, since that incident, we take special care to open any remotely suspicious package or letter inside a contained unit. Then we treat the contents with a variety of mediums including ultraviolet radiation. If there's anything alive in there, it won't be for long."

"Comforting. But I'm of the mindset that lightning rarely strikes twice in the same place."

"Key word there is 'rarely' Tony, meaning _sometimes_ it does. And if lightning _was_ gonna strike again, it would tend to happen to you." Tony gave her a look. "I'm just saying."

"Thanks a lot."

"Anytime."

Tony checked his watch. "Well, if you can open the letter and give me a look at the photos in the next 5 minutes, I can stick around. I need to get back upstairs before Gibbs realizes he has nobody to yell at."

"So this one includes photos, huh?" Abby asked.

"That's what it sounded like."

"Well, color me morbidly curious as to their subject matter." Abby dropped the envelope into what looked like a large clear box, closed it, and pulled a switch. "There, nice and air-tight."

She reached her hands into the large rubbery gloves on the side of the containment unit and opened the envelope.

"Nice, Abbs. Very _Mission Impossible II_." Tony remarked approvingly.

Abby leafed through the photos. "Tony?" she said slowly.

"What is it, Abbs?"

"Tony, these are all pictures of you."

"What? Let me see that."

Abby obligingly moved out of the way. Tony slipped his hands into the gloves and began lifting up the photos and looking at them.

"These are pictures from this weekend. Here I am leaving my apartment, here's me at Blockbuster, at the post office, going into the grocery store..."

Abby looked alarmed. "Tony, do you know what this means?"

"Yeah, it means I had a pretty slow weekend. Trust me; I usually have a lot more fun." Tony's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "What about you Abbs, what'd you do this weekend? No, let me guess. A little bowling, a little clubbing, maybe some-"

"Tony! This isn't funny!" Abby began pacing back and forth in the small space. "You have to admit that this is serious now. Not only do you have some psycho who wants to kill you, you have some psycho who wants to kill you and who is showing you he has the opportunity to kill you. He's not just making written threats anymore. Now he's stalking you."

"Well, come on Abbs, can you really blame anyone for taking pictures of me? I mean, look at this shot. Pretty good, right?"

Abby glanced at the photo he was holding. "Yeah, you do look kind of hot there although the lighting isn't-- Tony! Stop trying to distract me and please stop joking around!"

Tony exhaled. "I'm sorry Abbs. You know humor is my default setting. I make jokes when things are going to hell. It's how I cope. It's kind of like that time you got shot at and instead of freaking out you were feeling me up."

Abby half-smiled. "Yeah."

Tony continued. "The truth is I'm not entirely sure how to react to the information that I'm being stalked by a psycho killer, ok?"

"Ok." Abby bit her lip.

"So, if my default is humor does that mean that your default is lust?" Tony teased.

Abby laughed. "Maybe. You still have a nice booty by the way." Her smile suddenly disappeared. "Tony, I'm scared for you."

Tony put his hands on Abby's shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Abbs, I will be fine, ok? Fine."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Ok." Abby abruptly went back into scientist mode as she spun around to face her lab table. "Ok. The envelope and paper from this one is just like the others, a common brand you can buy anywhere. The ink seems to be the same as the others, but I'll have to run it through Major Mass Spec to be sure. The only way we could find out anything through the photos is if they were printed professionally, which I doubt. Most people just use their home printers for anything short of portraits nowadays. We could probably get it down to make and model, but there's no way to find the exact printer these came from unless we actually got hold of it. I'll run it for fingerprints next but considering we haven't found any before this…" She trailed off. "So do you want to update Gibbs or should I?"

"Update?" Tony questioned. "I thought you just said we have nothing new."

"The photos are new." Abby pointed out. "And this letter not only threatens _you_, but also threatens to hunt down and kill your family."

Tony shrugged. "Well, then I guess it's a good thing I don't have any family to worry about."

"Tony, don't say that. _We're_ your family."

"Ok, Abbs, you know what I meant."

She folded her arms and fixed him with a scowl. "No Tony, I don't."

Tony sighed. "All I meant was: I'm an only child, my mother's dead, and I haven't spoken to my father in years. Besides, he's no stranger to death threats; he already has a couple of bodyguards."

"He does? How come?"

"Well, he's a very rich international businessman, it comes with the territory. And what's more, he really knows how to piss people off. Where do you think _I_ got it from?" Tony replied cheekily.

Abby gave a short laugh. "Good point. You might want to warn him anyway though."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll email his secretary. She'll get the message to him." Just then Tony's phone rang. "DiNozzo. Now? Got it."

He turned to Abby as he hung up. "Gotta go. We have a case." He began to leave.

"Tony?"

Tony paused in the doorway. "Yeah Abbs?"

"Be careful."

He grinned. "Aren't I always?" he called as he ran off down the hall.

Abby heard the elevator doors close. "No Tony, sometimes you really aren't." She picked up Bert the hippo and gave him a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry Bert, he'll be ok."


	3. Injury To Insult

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except my ideas and skill in writing. NCIS is not mine, nor any of its characters, sadly :*(

**Chapter 3**

**Injury To Insult

* * *

**

Tony walked into the bullpen to find his teammates gathering up their things.

"Marine and his wife found dead at their home just outside Quantico. Come on." Gibbs announced as he headed toward the elevator, Ziva and McGee in tow.

"On your six, Boss." Tony quickly grabbed his gear and hurried after them, sliding in just before the doors closed.

* * *

"Ziva: bag and tag. McGee: shoot and sketch. DiNozzo: go interview the neighbor who discovered the bodies." Gibbs instructed.

As the team went about their respective duties, Gibbs made his way over to Dr. Mallard. In the center of the room Lieutenant Hank Dugray and his wife Linda lay about a foot apart; the man face up and staring and the woman prone with one arm under her body.

"What's it look like Duck?" He took a sip from his coffee and pulled a face as he realized it had gotten cold.

"Both victims were shot once through the heart. From close range, I would say. Almost certainly the cause of death, but I'll know for sure once we get them back home."

"Not much blood loss." Gibbs observed.

"No. Though, that could be easily explained as the heart would have stopped rather quickly considering the location of the bullets." Ducky pulled a liver probe out of the man's body and inspected the reading. "The Lieutenant was killed at approximately 0300 this morning. His wife was likely killed at roughly the same time, but I have not yet determined her time of death." He addressed his assistant. "Mr. Palmer, if you would be so good as to aid me."

"Of course, Dr. Mallard." Jimmy replied.

As the two men rolled the body over Ducky noticed something. "Jethro?"

Gibbs had just been in the process of turning away. "Yeah?"

"There is a revolver beneath the woman's body. Possibly the murder weapon."

"McGee, Ziva." Gibbs waved them over. McGee photographed the gun and then Ziva placed it in an evidence bag.

"Well, Jethro, it appears that, rather than a double murder, this may in fact be a murder/suicide."

"Could be. Or it could've been set up to look that way." Gibbs pointed out.

"Yes, well, I suppose that is a possibility." Ducky mused, "However, lividity suggests that the bodies have not been disturbed. But I imagine it would not take much movement to place the gun under the body. Abby should be able to tell us whether or not the Lieutenant's wife fired the gun. You know, this reminds me of a certain mystery novel I once read in which there was a presumed double homicide that the protagonist, quite by accident, discovered was actually-"

Gibbs cut him short. "Thanks Duck."

Suddenly the sound of screeching tires came from outside. Gibbs ran to the door and was horrified to see Tony hit the ground as a black SUV with tinted windows sped away.

* * *

Tony had been at the curb next door interviewing the neighbor.

"So, you said you came over to see if the Dugray's had any room in their paper bin?" Tony prompted.

"That's right. They didn't answer, which is strange, so I looked through the front window. Then I saw them." Ensign Tabitha Peterson informed him, separating her recyclables as she spoke.

"And how long ago was this?"

"About an hour ago. I called NCIS right away."

"Did you see anyone else? Anything suspicious?"

"No. Nothing." She closed the bin lid, dusting off her hands. "Is it alright if I go now? I need to get to work."

"Of course. If we have any more questions for you we'll be in touch."

She nodded and walked back into her house. As Tony finished writing and closed his notebook he glanced up to see a large black vehicle barreling around the corner straight for him.

Tony cursed and dove to the right, reacting barely in time to avoid being mowed over.

Still on the ground, Tony pulled out his Sig and fired after the vehicle, shattering the back windshield. It sped up and disappeared as Gibbs sprinted to his side.

"Tony! You ok?"

"I'm fine, Boss." Tony panted. "Just a little winded."

Ziva and Tim had charged out of the house, guns drawn, when they heard the shots. They looked concerned as they rushed toward Gibbs and Tony.

"What happened?" McGee demanded.

"Oh, not much. I've just lost a game of chicken with a two-ton hunk of metal." Tony quipped as he holstered his weapon. "Well, at least I got the plates." He took Gibbs' proffered hand and hauled himself up, grimacing as that action caused a sharp pain to shoot through his right hand and arm.

Ziva noticed. "Are you hurt, Tony?" she asked.

"What? No. I'm fine." Tony insisted. "I've gotten worse playing touch football."

"You are bleeding."

Tony looked down. His collision with the pavement had all but shredded his shirtsleeves and scraped a good deal of skin off of his forearms and palms. Blood was now trickling down and seeping through his ruined shirt. Quickly assessing himself, he realized he had also sustained several bumps and bruises in addition to his almost certainly sprained wrist.

"It's just a scratch. No big deal." He pasted on a smile, attempting to brush off his team's concern.

"Then you won't mind if Ducky takes a look at you when we get back." Gibbs ordered. He hadn't missed that his senior field agent was gingerly favoring his right wrist.

"But Boss-" Tony protested.

At a look from Gibbs he acquiesced. "Fine."

* * *

Parked on the edge of the cold metal autopsy table, Tony thought he had gotten off easy. Ducky had poked and prodded him, determined that he had no broken ribs, and cleaned and bandaged his scraped arms. His wrist was still throbbing but he decided against mentioning that. "Well Ducky, what's the prognosis? Am I a free man?" He half-rose, hopefully.

"Not quite, Anthony. Sit."

Tony sighed quietly and lowered himself back down.

"The x-ray of your wrist indicates a slight fracture of the hamate carpel, here." Ducky pointed it out on the image. "Luckily the bone won't need to be set as it is not displaced, but you will need to wear a splint."

Tony groaned. "A splint? For how long?" he asked.

"Eight to ten weeks, depending on how quickly you heal."

"Eight weeks?! Are you kidding?"

"Eight to ten." Ducky corrected. "And if you can't manage to remember to wear it we shall see how you do with a cast instead."

Tony sulked as Ducky applied the splint. He _had_ been planning on 'forgetting.'

"There now, how does that feel?"

Tony looked at the splint. It immobilized from his thumb down to a few inches below his wrist.

"It feels fine Ducky. I'm sorry; it's just been a long day. I don't mean to take it out on you."

"Not at all my dear boy. You're entitled to be a little put out after the day you've had. And I'm sure you must be in pain. I suggest an ice pack to alleviate some of the swelling. Also-"

Tony held up his hand, forestalling the Scotsman's next words. "No painkillers Ducky. You know how I get."

"I assume you are referring to your inclination toward rather extreme reactions to any sort of analgesics?"

"I get positively loopy Ducky."

Ducky chuckled. "Yes, you do at that. Not the worst I've seen though. Why I knew a man at Edinburgh, now this was back in -" Tony cleared his throat. "Oh I do apologize for the digression Anthony, but in any case I recommend aspirin at least."

"The old 'Take two aspirin and call me in the morning,' eh Ducky?" Tony grinned. He hopped down from the table and nearly stumbled. Ducky caught his arm, looking concerned.

"Perhaps you should leave a bit early today, Anthony."

Tony shook his head. "I'll be fine. Anyway I have to go see Abby. She'll be upset enough with me for getting hurt. Thanks for patching me up." With a quick wave, Tony was out the door.

* * *

Gibbs stepped into the forensic lab and was immediately hug-attacked by Abby.

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby was nearly hysterical. "McGee told me what happened. Is Tony ok? I can't believe someone tried to run him down!"

"Calm down Abbs. Tony's fine. Ducky's looking him over now, just in case."

"Gibbs, you have to find out who did this. They could go after him again!" Abby sniffled.

Gibbs gently patted her on the back. "Don't worry Abbs. I'm not going to let anything happen to Tony. Have you got anything for me from the case?"

Abby released Gibbs and walked over to her lab counter. "Well, I found two types of blood on Linda Dugray's clothing. One was her own, no surprise there, and the other belonged to-"

"Lieutenant Dugray."

"Right. I guess that's not really surprising either since they were killed right next to each other. The bullets in both Lieutenant Dugray and his wife came from the gun found at the scene. The gun was registered to the Lieutenant and I got several good fingerprints from it. Mostly the Lieutenant's, but a few recent prints belonged to-"

"His wife." Gibbs deduced.

"Right again! Want to guess what I found on her hand?"

"Gunpowder residue?"

"Three for three Gibbs, but there's no way you'll guess this last one. I found a video chip in Linda Dugray's pocket." Here Abby paused. "Do you know what was on the chip, Gibbs?"

"Just tell me Abbs."

Abby pouted. "You're no fun Gibbs. The video was basically a suicide note slash murder confession starring none other than Linda Dugray. Long story short: she apparently thought her husband was cheating on her and decided they were both better off dead. So case closed, I guess."

"Good work Abbs."

Tony walked into the lab. "Hey Abby, are you glad to see-oof!"

Tony's greeting was cut off as Abby rushed at him bodily and smothered him in a hug.

"Abby!"

"Yes Tony?"

"Broken wrist. Crushing. Pain." Tony sounded strained.

Abby immediately sprang back. "Oh, I'm so sorry Tony!" She lightly patted his splinted arm. "Wait, did you say broken? Gibbs, you said he was fine! 'Broken' is not fine!"

Gibbs fixed Tony with a steely stare. "He didn't mention it."

Tony shifted uncomfortably. "Well, to be fair, I thought it was sprained. And it's really more of a fracture than an actual break. A very minor fracture. Probably the least fractured that a bone can be and _not_ be fine. I just have to keep it splinted for a week or two."

"Just a week or two?" Abby asked. "Really?"

"Well, maybe three." Abby still looked skeptical. "What, you don't trust me?"

Abby looked at Gibbs.

Gibbs reached over and slapped the back of Tony's head.

"Ow! Geez! Did you guys forget I almost died earlier today?"

Abby put her hands on her hips. "Don't make me go ask Ducky."

"Fine. Eight to ten weeks. Happy?" Tony growled. "And Ducky already threatened me with a cast if I don't wear the splint."

"Good." Abby smiled, satisfied. "So, did you want to know if I got anything from the photos..." she trailed off as she noticed Tony shaking his head and frantically gesturing at her to stop speaking.

Tony quickly changed his hand motion into a shadow puppet as Gibbs turned to look at him. "Heh. Look, it's a bunny."

"Painkillers, DiNozzo?"

"Well, actually-"

Gibbs turned back to Abby. "What photos, Abbs?"

"Um-" her eyes darted to Tony. "Sorry, I thought you told him already."

"Something you forgot to mention this morning, DiNozzo?" Gibbs folded his arms, waiting.

Tony smiled sheepishly. "Well, I didn't think it was that important at the time since we had a case. And then, I guess, in all the excitement it just slipped my mind. You know how slippery my mind can be."

_Smack!_

"Better?"

"Yes. Thank you Boss."

"What. Photos."

"Ok." Tony took a deep breath. "That letter this morning wasn't just a letter. It had photos inside-"

"And they were all of Tony." Abby cut in.

"They were taken this weekend." Tony continued. "So, basically-"

"Tony is being stalked by a psycho killer." Abby finished.

"Well, it sounds really bad when you say it like that, Abbs." Tony rolled his eyes.

"And _did_ you get anything from these photos, Abby?" Gibbs face was an inscrutable mask.

Abby sighed sadly. "Nothing. No prints, no fibers, no unusual substances. They were printed on the most popular brand of your average photo paper using the second most popular brand of your average printer ink. Whoever this is, they're being really careful."

"Alright, Abbs. Keep me updated."

"Will do, Bossman." At this Gibbs nodded and abruptly left.

"You know," Tony pondered, "this kind of reminds me of a movie. _Murphy's Law_, 1986."

Abby giggled. "Actually, Tony, I'm going to have to disagree with you on this one."

"Why?"

"Because Murphy wasn't just stalked, he was also framed for murder."

"Right. Well, the day is still young. And with my track record…" Tony scoffed.

"Oh Tony. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about me Abbs. I'm fine."

"Are you really fine Tony?"

"Yes. No. Not really. I hate this stupid splint. It's itchy and I can't move my hand, like, at all. Stupid threatening letters. Stupid SUV. Stupid witness with her stupid recycling. Stupid me standing in the stupid freakin' street!"

"Aw Tony. Are you being pitiful?"

"...Maybe."

Abby embraced him again, careful to be gentle this time. "I know just how to cheer you up. We'll go out tonight. All of us. You, me, Timmy, Ziva. Palmer too. Come on, let's go tell them they're coming."

"Don't you mean 'ask them'?"

She linked arms with him and pulled him toward the door. "I think you know me better than that, Anthony DiNozzo. We're all going, and we're gonna have a great time whether we like it or not!"


	4. Friends Don't Let Friends Mope

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except my ideas and skill in writing. NCIS is not mine, nor any of it's characters, sadly

**Chapter 4**

**Friends Don't Let Friends Mope**

**

* * *

**

McGee sat at his desk, only half focused on the computer screen in front of him. The rest of his attention was on Ziva, as the agitated Israeli was currently pacing back and forth through the bullpen.

"What is it about Tony?" she burst out suddenly. "I mean, he always seems to have someone trying to kill him, or kidnap him, or frame him for murder, or else some sort of giant secret is threatening to blow up in his face. And he is always getting hurt. It is like he is some sort of… of danger glue."

"I think you mean danger _magnet_, Ziva."

Ziva glared. "Does it really matter? What I want to know is who could _possibly_ be after Tony this time?"

McGee shrugged. "Who knows? Like you said, Tony always manages to get himself in some sort of trouble."

"Yes," Ziva conceded with a nod, "well, I find it somewhat… admirable that he has made so many enemies."

"Admirable?" McGee repeated, incredulous. "Really?"

"Well," Ziva defended, "if no one disliked him, he would not be doing his job."

"Ok, I agree with that to a certain point, but I think Tony just has a special talent for infuriating people."

Ziva chuckled. "That is true McGee. But he is a good friend, and we would not have him any other way. Usually."

"Jack Nicholson impersonations and all?"

"Yes, even that."

McGee smiled slowly. "Wow Ziva. You're really worried about Tony, aren't you?"

"What? I- No. I am merely showing concern for a teammate. That is all." Ziva sniffed.

"Uh-huh. Ok, sure. Whatever you say."

"And just what do you mean by that, McGee?" Ziva asked in a dangerous voice, leaning over his desk and narrowing her eyes menacingly.

"Um, nothing, just-"

McGee was spared from answering as Gibbs strode out of the elevator toward them.

Ziva straightened up immediately. "Gibbs, how is Tony?" she inquired.

"His wrist's broken." Gibbs answered tersely. "Did-"

Ziva interrupted him, surprised. "Broken?"

"Slight fracture," he amended. "He'll be fine. Ducky fixed him up."

Ziva opened her mouth as if to question Gibbs further, but he turned away.

"McGee, you run those plates yet?"

"Yeah, Boss."

"And?" Gibbs demanded, impatiently.

"They, uh, came back stolen."

"Put out a-"

"BOLO on the SUV?" McGee answered, anticipating Gibbs' next words. "Already done Boss, and I got a hit. DC Metro found it abandoned about half an hour ago."

"Have it brought in for Abby."

"On it Boss."

"I'm going for coffee."

As Gibbs walked out, McGee began making calls while Ziva resumed her frenetic pacing.

_Ding__._

"Hey guys!" Abby skipped out of the elevator toward them, towing a slightly less than enthusiastic Tony.

Ziva appraised him, raising an eyebrow. "You do not look so bad."

"Gee, thanks Zee-vah." Tony slumped into his chair with a groan. "I'll have you know that I would not be standing, well, _sitting _here right now if not for my sharply tuned reflexes and uncanny instincts."

Hanging up his phone, McGee scoffed teasingly. "Sure, Tony. Are these the same 'instincts' that had you standing in the street in the first place?"

Tony frowned. "Well, at least I'm not afraid to talk to women."

"Oh yeah, well-" McGee's retort was cut off as Abby stepped in between their desks.

"Hey! Cut it out." Abby glared at them in turn until they each mumbled an apology. "That's better. Now, we are all going out tonight. We're going to get a drink, maybe go dancing. So plan on it."

"How do you know we don't already have plans?" McGee argued.

"It's Monday night, Tim. What could you possibly be doing?"

"Well-"

"That was rhetorical. If you already have plans; cancel them. Tony needs cheering up and we could all use some fun."

At this McGee got a strange look in his eye, then suddenly got up and began carefully opening his desk drawers.

"So, where are we going?" Ziva asked.

"Well, I thought we could go check out that new place up on 16th." Abby replied, watching McGee curiously as he grabbed a pencil and poked warily at his keyboard.

"Ooh, that sounds like fun. I heard they have a great band."

McGee looked under his chair. Then he got on the floor and crawled underneath his desk. By this time Abby, Ziva, and Tony were all staring, bemused.

"McGee!" Abby yelled.

There was a loud bump and a muffled exclamation and then McGee emerged from under the desk, red-faced.

"_What_ are you _doing_?"

"Uh, well, it's just that, the last time Tony needed to be cheered up, I wound up superglued to my keyboard," McGee explained. "So I thought I'd check to make sure nothing was, uh, booby-trapped."

Tony snickered, shaking his head. "You give me too much credit, Probie. I just got here."

"Yeah, but you always seem to do these things without anyone noticing."

"Ha. So true." Tony reached into his desk, pulling out a bottle of aspirin. "Actually, no. Gibbs always knows."

Ziva watched as Tony struggled one-handed with the bottle for a minute before taking it from him and deftly twisting off the lid.

"What, no crack about me not being able to open a childproof cap?" Tony asked as she handed the aspirin back. "I've got a few handy if you can't come up with one."

Rolling her eyes, Ziva turned back to Abby. "So, what time are we meeting?"

"I guess we should all just head there after Gibbs lets you off."

"Fine with me."

"I'll let Jimmy know." Abby waved as she headed back into the elevator.

At that moment, Ali walked past their desks.

"Look who it is, Tony. I bet she would like it if you asked her to come with us tonight," Ziva teased, an ever-so-slight edge to her voice.

Tony glanced over at McGee. "Yeah, I don't really think that would be a great idea, Ziva," he hedged.

McGee met his eyes. "Look Tony, if you want to ask her, it's fine. Don't let me stop you."

Tony made a derisive noise in his throat. "You're not stopping me."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. If I wanted to ask her, I would."

"Yeah?"

"But I already said I didn't."

"Fine then, don't."

"Ok. I won't."

The room was silent for an uncomfortable moment until Tony spoke up. "So… have you seen _Ninja Assassin_ yet?"

"No, not yet. I was thinking of maybe seeing it next weekend. Is it any good?" McGee asked.

"Well, the plot's a little clichéd, not too bad though, and not really unexpected in a film like this. But the action... was _wicked _awesome. I mean, they are ninjas."

McGee grinned. "Sweet."

Ziva watched this exchange, slightly baffled.

How those two could go from such petty bickering to friendly discussion was beyond her understanding.

* * *

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully with the team catching up on desk work. At least, McGee and Ziva worked while Tony practiced shooting paper balls at an assortment of targets.

Ziva sighed at his antics. "Tony, we are supposed to be doing paperwork."

"Ziva, Ziva, Ziva. This _is_ paper." Tony held up a sheet and made a big show of crumpling it up. He tossed it straight at McGee's wastebasket, pumping a fist in the air as it went in. "Oh! And I am _working_ on my left-handed shot. See? Look at that! This is the extent of the paperwork I can do Zee-vah, since I can't write."

Tony closed his eyes and flung another paper ball, this time missing the bin and hitting McGee square in the forehead, causing him to look up, affronted.

"You know Tony, I don't really think your handwriting could get any worse than the illegible scrawl that it normally is. I have a feeling that a broken wrist would actually improve your writing," McGee smirked.

"Ha ha. Very funny," Tony replied sourly.

They all straightened up as Gibbs came down from MTAC.

He considered them over the top of his coffee for a moment. "It's been a long day. Go home."

After the team gathered up their things and left, the lack of their teasing banter made the squad-room suddenly feel very quiet. Gibbs leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, lost in thought. It _had_ been a long day.

His stomach clenched as he recalled that morning.

From the second he'd heard the screeching tires he'd known in his gut that something was wrong. Then he'd seen Tony hit the ground. He didn't even remember rushing to his side, but he definitely remembered the pure relief that coursed through his veins as he grasped the fact that the only injuries Tony had incurred were from his impact with the pavement.

All in all, it could have been much worse.

He shook his head, angry. It could've been worse and it could still _be _worse if they didn't figure out who was gunning for Tony soon and stop them before something else happened. Gibbs picked up a file from a tall stack next to his desk. After the incident that day, he had requested files on Tony's old cases from Peoria, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. Since they had no leads he needed somewhere to start looking, to feel as if he was doing something useful.

An outside observer may not have known it to look at him, but Gibbs had a fiercely protective side that never failed to surface when a member of his team was in danger. Today he'd had to work hard not to show his team how worried and upset he was behind his impassive exterior.

And the fact that it was Tony, yet again, who was being menaced by some unseen threat, troubled Gibbs more than he liked to admit. At times it seemed as though there was some collective universal conspiracy against his senior agent.

Gibbs had been so relieved when he realized that Tony wasn't badly hurt that he could have hugged him. He didn't, of course. The ex-Marine wasn't particularly demonstrative as a rule, and headslaps were generally the only type of physical affection he displayed toward the man he considered practically a son.

Of course, Tony _had_ ended up with a fractured wrist, but again, it could have been worse. Tony might whine and grumble about having to wear a splint, but the injury wouldn't affect his field performance.

Smiling ruefully, Gibbs shook his head. He was one of the few people who knew that while Tony was an excellent shot with his right hand, he was also virtually as good with his left. Tony played the juvenile prankster to a T, but underneath he was as good an agent as Gibbs had ever known, and there was no one he would rather to have his six out in the field.

Gibbs lifted his coffee cup, annoyed to find it empty, as Director Vance walked into the bullpen.

"Agent Gibbs. You're working late."

"Director." Gibbs acknowledged.

"Where's your team?"

"Sent 'em home."

"So I assume you aren't working a case."

"Not exactly. Just looking for a lead."

"Hm. Does this have anything to do with the threatening letters your agent has been receiving?"

"It could."

"Find anything?"

"Not yet."

"Well, keep me updated." Gibbs gave a cursory nod as Vance left.

* * *

Tony signaled to the bartender for another beer. He downed half of it in a gulp and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Tony!" Abby suddenly appeared next to him. "Come dance with us."

He grinned and allowed her to lead him out onto the floor with the others. The music pulsed loudly as multicolored lights flashed. It was easy to tell why Abby had suggested they come here.

"So Tony," Abby practically shouted to be heard over the music, "is this place great or what?"

Tony laughed. "Yeah, Abbs. It's your kind of place."

"Hey, isn't that Ali over there?"

Tony looked in the direction Abby had indicated. Ali was sitting alone at a table, apparently texting, an untouched drink in front of her.

"Yeah, I think so."

"We should invite her to come hang out with us."

"Abby, you aren't still on that whole thing about how we would make a cute couple, are you?"

"Nah, I changed my mind about that. You guys shouldn't date. And anyway, I know you wouldn't go after a girl that McGee likes." Abby's eyes suddenly sparkled. "I think we should set the two of them up."

"Really? You want to set McGee up? And you're not gonna be jealous?"

"Jealous, moi?" Abby looked almost hurt at the suggestion. "McGee deserves to be happy, and I really like Ali."

"Well, that's very mature of you, Abbs."

"Besides, I kind of have an online thing right now with Eric, you know, from LA?"

"Right, right." Tony nodded. He remembered hearing something about that.

"Alright, so here's the plan." Abby grinned excitedly. "We'll invite her over here, and then you go convince McGee to ask her to dance while I'm talking him up."

"Ok, sure. Let's do it."

As they walked over to the table Ali didn't appear to have noticed them, still engrossed in what they could now see was a game of Tetris.

"Hey Ali!" Abby called.

Ali looked up from her phone and gave a start as she saw them, knocking over her drink.

"Shoot!" Ali exclaimed, quickly standing up before the liquid could run off the table onto her lap.

Tony grabbed a napkin off a nearby empty table and offered it to her helpfully.

Blushing profusely, Ali took it and quickly mopped up the worst of the spill.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Abby said. "Tony and I were just wondering if you wanted to come and hang out with us."

"McGee's here too. And Ziva and Palmer." Tony put in. "If you haven't met Palmer yet, he's the autopsy grem--er, he's the ME's assistant."

Ali stared at him. "Um actually, I, uh, have to go, actually. Sorry." She hurriedly picked up her coat and rushed out the door.

Abby looked at Tony. "Ok, that was _definitely_ hinky. Right?"

Tony shrugged. "I don't pretend to understand women, Abbs. Come on, let's just go back and dance, ok?"

Abby frowned in the direction of the door for a moment. "Ok, I'm coming."

As they made their way back to the dance floor, Ziva joined them.

"Was that Ali you were talking to?" she asked.

"Yeah," replied Tony. "She was here. What a coincidence, huh?"

"Yes," Ziva answered dubiously. "It is quite a coincidence." She sounded as if she thought it was anything but.

The music suddenly changed to a slower song. Tony and Ziva found themselves facing each other.

Tony smiled and extended his hand. "Would you care to dance ma'am?" he drawled.

Ziva raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, come on. Look, McGee's dancing with Abby. And Palmer's dancing with… some blond I've never seen before. Huh. Way to go Palmer!" He grinned mischievously. "Come on Zee-vah."

She tried to hide her amusement, but the corner of her mouth quirked involuntarily. She took Tony's hand.

"So, are you gonna let me lead?" he asked.

"Well, I do like to lead." Ziva confessed.

"Yeah, I kinda had a feeling you did." Tony gave her a roguish grin.

"But--" she clarified. "I will allow you to try. This time. It is entirely possible that your sense of masculinity would suffer if I did not."

Tony smirked as he pulled her closer and they slowly began to dance.

He was a very good dancer. But of course Ziva would never admit that out loud.

"So, have we succeeded tonight?" Ziva asked. "Are you cheery again?"

"Well, I'm having a good time, if that's what you mean. But the alcohol may have had something to do with that," he joked.

Ziva laughed. "Sure."

As the music ended they stopped dancing and stood, suddenly awkward.

Tony dropped his hands and stepped back, clearing his throat. "Ok. Good dance."

Ziva smiled. "It was alright."

Just then Abby came up to them, leading Palmer and McGee.

"Doesn't this place rock?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah Abbs, but you know, it is getting kind of late," McGee hinted.

"And we do have to work tomorrow," Palmer put in.

"Yeah, you guys are right. We should probably go soon. Is everyone ok to drive?" She turned to Tony as she said this.

"What are you looking at me for? I'm not drunk."

"No, but you have had a couple drinks and you probably shouldn't be driving with your arm like that anyway," Abby pointed out.

"Hey, I made it up here didn't I?"

"Yeah, how _did_ you do that? Isn't your Camaro a stick?"

"Well, naturally. Do I look like the kind of guy who would drive an automatic?" Tony shook his head, scornful.

"So how did you shift?" McGee asked.

"Trade secret." Tony winked impishly.

"Tony, you are a crash waiting to happen!" Ziva proclaimed in disbelief.

"It's 'accident,' Ziva, and you're one to talk."

"She's right either way, Tony." McGee plucked Tony's keys out of his hand. "You're not driving tonight."

"I'm pretty sure I drive better than Ziva even with a broken wrist." Tony protested. "Probie, wait. I don't let anyone drive my baby."

"Tony, I know how to drive a Camaro. I used to have one, remember?"

"Yeah. I also remember you crashed it. Into a bus. The first time you drove it."

"Gimme a break," McGee objected. "I was 16."

"Tony, McGee is driving you home and I will follow and drive him home. And that's final." Abby ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Fine," Tony pouted, giving in.

As they headed out into the parking lot, Tony suddenly stopped.

"McGee, you're not driving my car."

McGee sighed. "Tony, we just went over this-"

"Look, McGee."

"Look what? I promise to be careful, ok?"

"No, Tim. _Look._" Tony pointed. McGee looked.

The Camaro's tires had been slashed.


	5. Coinkydink? I Don't Think

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except my ideas and skill in writing. NCIS is not mine, nor any of it's characters, sadly. I mentioned that I would like a Tony right? That's what I want for Christmas... :D

**Chapter 5**

**Coinkydink? I Don't Think...**

**

* * *

**

Ziva sat at her desk, lost in thought. Tony had been in a very foul mood the previous night after discovering his vandalized car, utterly negating the team's 'cheering up' attempt. Of course, he could hardly be blamed after what had happened. The club owner had allowed the team to check the club's security footage, but unfortunately it was a new system and several cameras, including the one that covered that portion of the parking lot, had malfunctioned.

Unconsciously twirling a pen through her fingers, with Gibbs' line about coincidences in the forefront of her mind, Ziva watched with narrowed eyes as Ali came through the room with her cart. Ali seemed to feel the gaze on her and turned. Ziva glared back at her, putting as much hostility as she could into the look. Ali's eyes widened and she bit her lip, seeming unnerved, before continuing on her route.

"What was _that_ about?" McGee asked. He had apparently entered the bullpen just in time to catch the tail end of the exchange.

Ziva gave him a cursory glance before turning back to stare contemplatively at the door Ali had just walked through. "Do you not think it is even a _little_ suspicious, McGee?"

McGee hung his coat over the back of his chair. "What's suspicious?"

"_She_ is suspicious. Ali."

McGee looked perplexed. "Why?"

"Oh come on, McGee. She just _happen__s_ to show up at the club last night when we were all there. After she just _happened_ to walk past as we were discussing our plans to go there. And then she _happens_ to leave suddenly after speaking to Tony and then his tires just _happen_ to get slashed."

McGee raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence, Ziva."

Ziva gave him a look.

"Well, I mean, you're not suggesting that _Ali_ is Tony's mysterious stalker, are you? Ziva, that's… that's ridiculous." McGee stammered.

"Why is it ridiculous?" Ziva started ticking off on her fingers. "She began working here about the time Tony got the first letter, she acts very strange around him, _and_ she was at the club last night. I do not think that is so ridiculous."

"Like I said, it's gotta be a coincidence."

"McGee, I think you are being blinded by a pretty face."

McGee looked almost insulted. "I'll have you know that I, unlike Tony, have the ability to be objective when dealing with women that I find attractive."

Ziva scoffed. "Of course. You are the _portrait_ of objectivity."

"'Picture', Ziva, and anyway, what could Ali possibly have against Tony?"

"I do not know, but I know she is hiding _something_." Ziva insisted.

_Ding._

Tony exited the elevator, arguing with someone on the other end of his cell phone.

"No, no, no. Joe- I said _full_ detailing… No, look I don't care what- No. Yeah, you got it… You're the man, Joe." Tony hung up and let out a huge breath. "Man, I have been on the phone all morning. I already feel like I've been working all day, and I just got here."

"Problems, Tony?" McGee inquired.

"That was my mechanic, Joe." Tony slung his bag down behind his desk. "He can be a little slow, but he's the only one I trust to take care of my baby. I tell ya, if you really want to hurt a guy, you go after his car."

"Well, I am sure you will have your 'baby' back in no time." Ziva assured him.

Tony shook his head. "No. I've actually decided to leave her at the garage for a little while. She's due for a tune-up anyway, and I don't want to risk anything else happening to her."

"So how did you get to work this morning? Did you ride the bus?"

"Ha. No way. It's called a rental car, Zee-vah. And don't worry," Tony held up his wrist, "I got an automatic."

"Well Tony, I hope you decided to spring for the extra insurance." McGee put in seriously. "With your luck lately, I think you might need it."

Tony gave a mock glare. "I resent that comment, McGee. And… yes I did." he admitted. "Thought it might be wise."

Just then Ali walked back through the bullpen and into the elevator. Ziva narrowed her eyes and frowned at her departing back before the doors closed.

"I saw that look, Ziva. Are we not playing nicely with others?" Tony teased.

"Ziva thinks that Ali is the one that slashed your tires. And maybe sent you those letters too." McGee informed him.

Tony laughed. "Aw, Zee, you do care. I'm touched. But Ali? Really?" He looked less than convinced. "There's no need to see new enemies around every corner. I already have more than my fair share."

"Ya think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs entered the bullpen, thumping down a large stack of files which he proceeded to divvy up amongst his team's desks.

"What's this, Boss?" Tony looked down, puzzled.

"_Your_ old case files." Gibbs replied.

"So this is what we're doing today, looking through Tony's old cases?" McGee asked.

"Well, yeah, McGee, unless you have a better suggestion."

"No, Boss, just checking."

"What exactly are we looking for?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs took a gulp of his ever-present coffee. "A lead."

Ziva shrugged. "Alright. Oh, Gibbs," she suddenly remembered something. "Ducky wants you to come down to autopsy when you get a chance."

Gibbs nodded, heading to the elevator. "Get to work."

McGee whistled. "Wow, Tony, these sure are a lot of files."

Tony stretched his hands behind his head with a grin as he reclined in his chair. "Yeah, well, what can I say, McGoo? When you're good, you're good."

"And to think that each and every one of these files is most likely someone with a grudge against you." McGee continued.

Tony sat up and shot him a cross look.

"You know," Ziva mused, "I am almost certain that I would have more enemies than _this_. That is, if they were not all dead."

Tony's eyes danced with mirth as he exchanged an amused smirk with McGee.

Ziva reached for the top file on her desk and looked over at them, innocently. "What?"

"Nothing." They replied in unison, quickly picking up files of their own.

* * *

The autopsy doors whooshed open as Gibbs strode in.

"Duck, you got something for me?"

"Ah, Jethro. As you may recall, I have been compiling a psychological profile on this anonymous letter-writer of Anthony's."

"Yeah, Duck. I recall."

"Yes, well, from the wording in the letters, the writer is looking for revenge of some sort. It seems that he- or she, as the case may be-" Ducky clarified, "wants to make Anthony suffer for some perceived injustice."

"Does he say what? Anything that might give us a clue who this could be?"

"No, the phrasing is almost deliberately vague." Ducky spread out copies of the letters and photos on a table. "By attempting to run him down at the crime scene, and then slashing his tires while he was out last night, our writer is virtually taunting Anthony, trying to intimidate him and make him believe that no place is safe. And as you can see, the letters have become progressively more aggressive, and now photos as well. He seems to get a sadistic enjoyment out of causing pain and likes to be in control. Furthermore, he is persistent. There can be little doubt of that."

"Persistent? Meaning he _will_ go after Tony again." Gibbs' question sounded more like a statement.

Ducky sighed. "That would be my supposition. And soon, most likely. Moreover, I fear this time he will try something less blatant, and more difficult to elude." When there was no response he glanced at Gibbs, whose expression was unreadable. "What are you thinking, Jethro?"

"I'm thinking we'd better track down this scum of the earth before he goes after my agent again!" he growled, brusquely stalking out of autopsy.

Gibbs made his way down the hall, stopping at the door to the evidence garage where Abby had been going over the SUV from the previous day.

Abby was on a creeper half-under the vehicle, working. As she pushed herself out she spotted him. "Gibbs! How did you know?"

"Know what, Abbs? Have you got something?"

"Well, I'm running the fingerprints from the SUV, but if our bad guy sticks to his M.O. he'll have worn gloves, so they most likely belong to the owner. Same thing with the hairs I found, they're probably the owner's too."

"Is that all you've got Abbs?" Gibbs sounded vaguely irritated.

Abby held her hand over her heart, feigning offense. "Gibbs. Is this doubt I hear? I'm surprised at you. I wouldn't call you in here just for _that_."

"Then what?"

"Exhibit A: mysterious fibers." Abby held up a small evidence bag triumphantly. "Found only on the gas and brake pedals and on the floor in front of the driver's seat. They probably came from our bad guy's shoes."

Gibbs peered closely at the bag. "Well? What are they?"

Abby frowned. "I don't know, Gibbs. They're _mysterious_. But don't worry; Major Mass Spec. has rarely let me down. These could tell us where this guy has been, or maybe even where he's living."

"How long till you know something?"

She shrugged. "Could be a few hours, could be a few days."

Gibbs just looked at her.

"I'm kidding, Gibbs. When I know, you will know," she assured him. "You know you always know when I know. Sometimes you even know before I know that I know. You know?"

Gibbs half-smiled. "Yeah, Abbs. I know."

Abby gave a wave as he left.

* * *

Late that afternoon, Tony was getting restless. He folded a paper airplane and threw it at Ziva.

She looked up at him. "Tony."

"What?" He grinned innocently.

"I am trying to work."

"You're not done with those files yet?"

"No. Almost. You have finished yours already?" she asked, skeptical.

"Yup." Tony leaned back in his chair.

"How? You have been messing around all day."

"Work smarter, not harder, Ziva. That's my motto. Besides, I already know these files. They are my old cases, after all."

Ziva closed her last file. "Done."

"I'm done too." McGee announced.

"Good." Gibbs strode into the bullpen, fresh coffee in hand. "You can all go home." He continued up the stairs toward MTAC.

"Ah, finally!" Tony exclaimed, standing up and stretching. He glanced at his watch. "And with any luck, I'll get home in time to catch _Total Recall_. One of Arnie's finest. Great plot, incredible humor, exploding cars. What more could you ask for in a movie?"

Ziva and Tony began gathering up their things as McGee remained at his desk.

"McGee, you coming?" Tony asked.

"No, I'm staying for a little while. The Director asked for me to help on a project."

"What does the Director need your help with, McGee?" Ziva questioned, curious.

"Well it's-" McGee began.

"Obviously something super technical that only McNerds know how to do." Tony interjected. "Blah, blah, blah, boring."

McGee smiled at a point behind Tony's head. "Hello, Director."

Tony's eyes widened in horror and he slowly turned.

No one was there.

McGee and Ziva both cracked up as he turned back around.

"You should have seen your face, Tony." Ziva laughed.

"Yeah, yeah. You're hilarious." Tony replied sarcastically. "Come on Ziva. Let's leave Timmy to play with his toys."

"See you guys tomorrow." McGee waved, still grinning as the other two stepped into the elevator and the doors closed.

* * *

"So, Ziva. _Total Recall_. You interested?" Tony asked as the two walked into the parking garage.

Ziva shook her head. "I think I will pass."

"You sure? Great plot, incredible humor -"

"And exploding cars, yes I know." Ziva chuckled. "Not tonight Tony."

A bright green Volkswagen Beetle pulled out of a space ahead of them. Ziva paused when she saw that Ali was driving it.

Tony noticed where she was looking. "Ziva."

Ziva turned back to him, arms folded. "What? I do not trust her."

"Come on Ziva, give her a break. It's not easy being the new kid."

"Has anyone ever told you that you are too trusting?"

Tony laughed out loud. "Nope. I can honestly say that's not something I've ever been accused of." He grew sober. "Look Ziva, I guess you've got to trust your gut, but don't turn this into a cat-fight. Well, at least, not unless you give me fair warning."

Ziva raised an eyebrow.

"So I can set up a video camera, of course." Tony grinned as he climbed into his rental car and started the engine.

Ziva scoffed. "Goodbye Tony." She continued over to her parking spot and searched through her bag.

A sudden explosion nearly knocked her off her feet and she dropped the keys she had just found. Coughing at the smoke that began to fill the garage, Ziva crouched behind her Mini Cooper, looking for the source of the blast. She gasped in shock as she saw that it was Tony's car.


	6. How To Save A Life: Ninja Style

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except my ideas and skill in writing. NCIS is not mine, nor any of it's characters, sadly. I mentioned before that I wish I had a Tony right? That's what I want for Christmas... That and lots and lots of REVIEWS!

**Chapter 6**

**How To Save A Life: Ninja Style  
**

* * *

_A sudden explosion nearly knocked her off her feet and she dropped the keys she had just found. Coughing at the smoke that began to fill the garage, Ziva crouched behind her Mini Cooper, looking for the source of the blast. She gasped in shock as she saw that it was Tony's car_.

"Tony!" Ziva shouted frantically.

The car was in flames and thick, choking smoke poured out through its shattered windows.

She glanced desperately around the garage, hoping to find a fire extinguisher nearby. Giving up, she ran over to the vehicle and wrenched open the door, her coat wrapped around her hands for protection.

Tony was slumped over, unconscious. Ziva took hold of him under his arms and yanked, hauling him out of the damaged seat, the rear of which was embedded with shards of metal. They moved back only a few feet before she staggered under his weight.

"Oh, come on, Ziva. Move." She ordered herself.

She shifted her arms to improve her grip and dragged Tony further away from the vehicle, heading for a concrete support column.

They had nearly reached it when a second explosion rocked the garage. Cursing colorfully in Hebrew, Ziva dropped to the ground and attempted to shield Tony with her body as best as she could. The wreckage of the car flew violently everywhere and a piece of the gas tank, still blazing, landed nearby.

Ziva lifted her head carefully and looked around as the flames began to die down. Deeming it safe to move, she resumed her task of lugging Tony backward, finally positioning him behind the column. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911 before sliding down the wall to crouch beside Tony's limp form. She laid two fingers on his throat to check his pulse. His heart was beating rapidly and his breath came ragged and shallow.

Tony's face, though partly obscured with soot, was pale. Blood oozed out of a gash on his forehead where he had hit the steering wheel in the original blast. He had a number of other cuts and scrapes from debris and the exposed skin on his neck and forearms was already beginning to redden from superficial burns.

"Tony? Tony, can you hear me?" She took his hand.

He didn't react. She touched his face, noting that it was cool and clammy.

"Shock. He may be going into shock." Ziva was a little shell-shocked herself as she muttered, trying to gather her thoughts. She mentally went through the list of first aid for shock.

_Lay him down, done, check his circulation, done, loosen his clothing_- Ziva unbuttoned Tony's collar and was reaching to undo his belt when she felt a hand on her wrist.

"Ziva. Wait."

Ziva looked over to see Tony's green eyes open and lock with hers.

"How can I be sure that you'll respect me in the morning?" He teased weakly.

With relief and a little amusement evident in her voice, Ziva replied, "Tony, this is standard treatment for shock."

"Oh, is that what we're calling it?"

He let out a short laugh that gave way to a cough. A rough, hacking cough that sounded painful and likely felt worse. Ziva looked on, worried and unsure of what to do as Tony struggled to catch his breath.

"Well," he wheezed, "Mouth-to-mouth… might be more appropriate… Or less, depending… on where we're going with this."

Ziva snorted. Her mock glare quickly turned anxious as Tony began coughing again. She moved to help him sit up against the wall as he continued to gasp for air.

"You are most likely suffering from smoke inhalation."

"Ya think?"

Tony's response decidedly lacked the sarcasm he would normally have delivered that line with, and Ziva grew concerned when she saw that he had closed his eyes again.

"Tony. Are you going to pass out?"

His eyes snapped open and he took in a raspy breath. "DiNozzo's… do not… pass out."

She smiled, pleased that her words had the effect that she'd hoped. "The paramedics should be-"

"What? Paramedics?" He nearly choked at that. "What... do we need those for? I'm... fine."

She raised an eyebrow as he began coughing again. "I see that."

"Aw... Ziva... Don't make me go." He pleaded.

"You are going. And you know that I _will _make you if I must."

Tony leaned his head back against the wall and sulked. "I hate... hospitals."

Just as Ziva opened her mouth with a retort, an ambulance drove toward them, lights flashing, and EMTs descended on the scene.

They took charge of the situation and soon had Tony loaded up on a stretcher with an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

One EMT turned his attention to Ziva. "Ma'am, you've probably inhaled some smoke as well. You should come and get checked out."

"No." Ziva shook her head. "I have to stay here. This is a crime scene."

"All right, but if you experience any symptoms, you should seek medical attention."

"Of course."

Tony pulled the oxygen mask away and addressed Ziva. "Guess… this means I'm going to miss my movie."

Ziva rolled her eyes and laughed in disbelief at his petulant tone of voice. "Well, you at least got the exploding car, Tony," she pointed out.

He flinched. "Not… funny."

"Sorry."

Tony scowled and replaced the mask as he was loaded into the ambulance.

After the ambulance had driven away, Ziva picked up her phone. She needed to tell Gibbs.


	7. Explosions, Emotions

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Blah, blah, blah, disclaimer stuff, blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas. NCIS is not mine, to my eternal regret.

**Chapter 7**

**Explosions, Emotions**

* * *

Gibbs was in MTAC when his cell rang.

He briefly glanced at the name on the screen before answering.

"Gibbs." He listened for a moment. "What?... I'll be right there."

He hurried down the stairs into the bullpen, glad to find one member of his team still at his desk.

"McGee, with me."

"Boss?" McGee questioned. "I was supposed to help with-"

"A bomb just went off in the parking garage, McGee." Gibbs barked.

McGee's eyes widened as he began gathering his gear. "The _NCIS_ parking garage?"

Gibbs' glare was answer enough.

"Ok, uh, should I call Tony and Ziva?" McGee persisted.

"Ziva's already there."

McGee pondered this for a second. "And Tony?"

From the look on Gibbs' face, McGee was afraid he already knew the answer to that question.

"On his way to the hospital."

"Is he alright?" McGee asked, concerned.

"Well, if he's not, he'll have me to answer to." Gibbs growled. "Let's go."

McGee followed Gibbs into the elevator without another word.

* * *

Ziva hadn't told him much over the phone. And looking over the aftermath of the explosion, the devastation of which was strewn over a large portion of the parking garage, Gibbs felt a thrill of dread run through him. The car had been literally blown apart. He found himself doubting that anyone could survive an explosion of that magnitude.

Of course, statistics meant nothing when it came to Tony. That had been established multiple times. And Gibbs himself had been blown up, not once, but twice, and came out with no severe repercussions. Still, it was hard to think of that when he couldn't even tell that the twisted heap of wreckage in front of him had been a car as recently as half an hour ago.

Gibbs quickly quashed his fears as he approached Ziva, McGee close behind.

"Ziva, sitrep." He demanded.

Ziva seemed distracted as she turned toward him. "What?"

"Focus, Ziva!" Gibbs snapped. "Tell me what the hell happened!"

"It was very sudden. One second Tony was joking around, getting into his car, and the next second, there was an explosion."

McGee gave a low whistle. "I'll say there was."

Gibbs shot him a look before turning back to Ziva. "How bad?"

She shook her head. "I do not know exactly. He was having trouble breathing. Smoke inhalation. But most of his injuries seemed superficial."

"Superficial? With all this?" Gibbs gestured widely in disbelief.

"Well, the first explosion was much smaller." Ziva told them as they headed toward the center of the blast radius.

"There was more than one." Gibbs raised his eyebrows, surprised.

"Yes. Did I not say that?" Ziva still seemed a little preoccupied. "After I managed to pull Tony out and away from the vehicle, there was a second explosion. As you can see, it reduced the car to barely more than rubble."

"It was probably caused by the gas tank catching fire after the primary explosion." McGee deduced, pulling out a camera and beginning to snap pictures of the scene. "Good thing Tony wasn't in there when it blew."

"Yes, well he was conscious and even making jokes by the time the paramedics arrived."

Gibbs nodded stoically, hiding his relief. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if Ziva hadn't been there, or hadn't been quick enough. "That's a good job Ziva."

She met his eyes. Gibbs read worry there that mirrored his own. It was as clear as if she had shouted; despite Tony's making it through this incident relatively unscathed, Ziva was still deeply afraid for her partner. But he caught a flash of something else there, too. Guilt?

"Gibbs," she began in a low voice. "I think I need to tell you something."

He put his hand on her arm and guided her back a little. "What is it?"

"I should have told you before, but all I had were suspicions and coincidences. Tony and McGee had convinced me that I was just being silly." She chewed her bottom lip. "But I cannot ignore it anymore."

"Ignore what?"

Ziva quickly listed for him all of her reservations involving Ali, beginning with Ali's generally suspicious behavior and ending with the fact that she was in the garage right before the bomb went off.

She looked upset when she was done. "It is my fault Gibbs. I should have told you. And Tony is my partner. I should have had his back."

Gibbs was silent for a moment after she had finished speaking then beckoned her closer. As she approached, his hand came up and gently cuffed the back of her head.

"It's _not_ your fault, Ziva."

"But-"

"Do. Not. Blame. Yourself." Gibbs drew out each word for emphasis.

Ziva still looked remorseful.

He sighed, softly. "Trust your instincts next time."

"I will."

"I know you will. And as for having Tony's back, who pulled him out of there? You did."

"I did." Ziva conceded.

"You saved his life." He reached over and ruffled her hair. "You did good, Ziva."

Smiling at the affectionate gesture, Ziva rejoined McGee as Gibbs left the garage.

"Where's he going?" McGee asked.

"Following a lead, I think." Ziva answered as she began sketching the scene.

"That must have been some explosion." He mused. "There are pieces of the car all the way over by the far wall. And judging from the marks, I'd say some pieces blew into the ceiling too."

"You forget I am from Israel. I have seen others more devastating."

McGee shrugged. "Well, anyway, all of this debris is evidence. Abby is going to have a field day."

Ziva suddenly looked at him. "Abby."

McGee squinched up his eyes, as if in pain. "Abby. I almost forgot." He shook his head. "She is going to absolutely freak out."

* * *

McGee and Ziva stepped into Abby's lab, a little nervously. Abby had her back to the door and seemed to be completely engrossed in whatever she was peering at under her microscope.

As McGee picked up a remote and turned the stereo system down several notches, Abby looked up from the microscope, her pigtails bobbing.

"Hey guys! Do you wanna see something cool?"

"Is it relevant to a case?" McGee asked.

Abby took a slurp of her Caf-Pow. "What? Oh. No. My babies are still working on finding something from the fibers in the SUV. But this is _really_ cool. Trust me." She grabbed them each by an arm and pulled them over to the plasma screen. "Now, check out this mold spore. Doesn't it look _exactly_ like the Martians in _War of the Worlds_?"

"Abby-" Ziva began.

"I have to show this to Tony. He'll appreciate it. Did he leave already?" Abby glanced at a clock on the wall. "Wow, it is kind of late. Why haven't you guys left yet? And Ziva, do you smell like smoke?"

Ziva exchanged a glance with McGee.

Abby noticed.

"And what's with the hinky looks? Did something happen?" She gasped. "Something bad? Oh no. Oh my gosh. It _is_ something bad."

"Look, Abbs-"

Abby interrupted McGee with a scowl. "No. No, no, no. Don't you _dare_ tell me something bad happened. I will not accept any bad news." She clapped her hands to her ears stubbornly.

"Abby listen-" Ziva tried.

She moved her hands. "Something happened to Tony, didn't it? Didn't it?"

"Yes, Abby, but-"

Her face crumbled. "I knew it. I just knew it."

McGee opened his mouth as Abby held up a finger.

"No, wait. Don't tell me yet." She took a deep breath and composed herself. "Ok, I'm ready."

"There was an explosion."

Abby's hands flew to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. "Oh no. Oh no, Tony. Is he ok? Please tell me he's ok." She begged.

"Abby, calm down."

"Do NOT tell me to calm down, Timothy McGee! I just found out that one of my best friends in the entire world got blown up and you want me to calm down?"

McGee took her in his arms. "Ok, Abby, I'm sorry."

Abby buried her head in his shoulder. "Just tell me he's ok, you guys."

"Abby, Tony is going to be fine." Ziva assured her.

"Yeah." McGee put in. "We just called Bethesda. They treated Tony for shock, minor burns, and smoke inhalation. He only needed a few stitches and they're keeping him overnight for the smoke inhalation. Just for observation. Because of his lungs, you know." He added, a bit unnecessarily.

Abby straightened up, sniffling. "Oh, poor Tony. Are you sure he's really fine? Did he seem like the 'fine' when he says he's fine but he's really not, or like the actual 'fine' when he really is ok?"

McGee shrugged helplessly. "I didn't even see him. You'll have to ask Ziva. She's the one who pulled him out."

Abby turned to Ziva, expectantly.

Ziva considered it. "Well, he was teasing me. He said I should give him mouth-to-mouth."

Abby smiled.

"And then I had to threaten him with bodily harm in order to get him to cooperate with the paramedics."

McGee smirked and Abby laughed out loud.

"So, he'll really be ok?"

"Tony will be just fine." _This_ _time, at least_. Ziva added in her mind. She only hoped he would stay that way.


	8. Your Mileage May Vary

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Blah, blah, blah, disclaimer stuff, blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas. NCIS is not mine, to my eternal regret.

**Chapter 8**

**Your Mileage May Vary**

* * *

The lights on directly above the MCRT's desks made the bullpen unusually bright for a quarter after five. But this wasn't what had woken up McGee, who had face-planted in front of his monitor less than an hour before. Looking around for the noise that had roused him, he spotted Tony at the next desk attempting to quietly get something out of his drawer.

"Tony, you're here." McGee said in surprise.

Imitating McGee's shocked tone, Tony countered. "Tim, you drool."

McGee quickly looked down at his desk, then back up. "What?"

"Well," Tony grinned. "I thought as long as we were just saying stuff that was happening."

McGee gave the side of his mouth a furtive swipe. "What are you doing here, Tony?"

"I work here, McPuzzled." Tony turned to face McGee, providing a better view of his injuries.

Tony's burns didn't look too serious, rather like a moderate sunburn, but he appeared stressed and there were dark circles under his eyes. What looked worst, though, was the ugly purple bruise across his forehead with several stitches going down the middle.

"Uh Tony, you were in an explosion just last night." McGee pointed out.

Tony's eyes widened and he gave a fake gasp. "No way. I was?"

McGee rolled his eyes. "Don't be so obtuse, Tony. What are you doing out of the hospital?"

"Oh, that. Well, they said I had to stay overnight, and technically," Tony tapped his wristwatch, "technically the night _is_ over."

McGee scoffed at Tony's logic. "Maybe you should have stuck around. You don't look so great."

Tony took in McGee's rumpled suit and bleary eyes. "I could say the same about you, McGoo. Have you been here all night?"

"Well, yeah. We all have."

"How come?"

"Come on, Tony. You think we'd just go home after somebody tried to kill you?"

Tony considered this. "Well, what about your computer project thingamajig for Vance?"

McGee shrugged. "I was busy so he got someone from the Cyber Crimes Unit to help him."

"Oh. Sorry about that, Tim." Tony grimaced.

"Eh," McGee waved him off. "It's not a big deal." He looked more closely at Tony. "Are you sure you wanna be here Tony? Maybe you should go home."

"Why would I do that? I'm absolutely fine."

"Uh-huh."

"I am." Tony insisted.

McGee raised his eyebrows. "If you say so."

"I mean, it's not like this kind of thing has never happened to me before."

"Well, I'll give you that." McGee replied. "But just so you know, I think the general consensus after someone's car blows up-with them inside-is that they take at least a day or two off."

Tony made a derisive noise in his throat at that suggestion. "Not me. You know, I think I just have bad luck when it comes to cars."

McGee snorted. "You're only figuring this out now?"

For a split second Tony's eyes took on a haunted look. Then it was gone, leaving McGee wondering if he'd imagined it.

"No, I figured that one out a long time ago, trust me." Tony muttered.

"Tony, I think you've had more car mishaps than anyone else I know. That is, if you don't count all of Ziva's fender-benders."

Tony gave a short, humorless laugh. "Well, yeah, probably. Let's see. There was the time a psychotic CIA agent decided to blow up my Mustang, there was that car at a crime scene that was rigged to explode when I opened the trunk, there was the time my Corvette was stolen and then crashed on live TV after a high-speed chase, and there was-" he briefly broke off, brooding, before suddenly switching to a more upbeat tone. "And now this. At least I got that extra insurance. You know, the car's the real victim here. Poor car."

"At least it wasn't actually _your _car this time." McGee pointed out.

"Well, no, but it's the principle of the thing." Tony shook his head. "Maybe I should just buy a Pinto and get it over with. You know, save all the Trent Korts of the world a little time and effort." he joked bleakly.

"Tony-" McGee began.

Tony quickly interrupted him. "So, where is everybody?"

McGee went along with the change in subject. "Um, well, if I had to take a wild guess I'd say Gibbs is getting coffee. Ziva was here before, but I think she went to help Abby, who last I saw, was down in the evidence garage sorting through a ton of debris."

Tony nodded and headed toward the elevator. "You coming?"

"Yeah, sure." McGee stood up to follow him. "You do know Abby's going to be very upset with you for leaving the hospital early, right?"

Tony cringed, thinking of facing Abby's wrath. "Yeah. You think maybe she'll go easy on me, since I'm injured and all?"

McGee shook his head with a small laugh. "Nope."

Tony pondered this. "Huh. I wonder if it's too late to check myself back in?"

McGee rolled his eyes and pushed the button for the elevator. "Come on."

* * *

They found Abby in her lab, piecing together scraps of metal spread out on her lab table like a giant jigsaw puzzle.

"Tony!"As he stepped through the doorway, Abby rushed over to engulf him in a bear hug, and then pulled back. She pointed a finger at him, scolding. "Anthony DiNozzo, what are you doing here? Did you sneak out of the hospital early? Again?"

She glanced knowingly toward McGee who nodded his confirmation.

Tony shook his head. "'Sneak,' Abby? You make it sound like I'm Gollum. I most definitely did not 'sneak.'"

Abby frowned and punched him lightly in the shoulder.

"Ouch!" Tony yelped. "Abby! I'm injured!"

"Not there you're not." She put her hands on her hips. "You couldn't have waited? I was going to come get you in a couple of hours."

He had the grace to look sheepish. "Come on, Abbs. You know I hate hospitals."

"Oh, poor baby." Abby hugged him again before continuing in a stern voice. "Don't think that lets you off the hook, mister. You always do this."

"What?" Tony looked slighted. "I do not."

"What about all those times you signed yourself out AMA?" She pressed.

"That's different."

McGee chimed in. "And what about when you climbed out that window?"

"So what? It was on the first floor of the hospital." Tony protested.

Abby continued. "And what about the time that you convinced that nurse to-"

"Ok, ok." Tony interrupted, holding up his hands. "I'm sort of trying to forget about that particular incident."

Abby smirked. "Good luck with that."

"She is right Tony. I do not think you will ever live that one up."

Tony beamed at the figure in the doorway. "It's down, Ziva. 'Live it down.' And how is my own personal ninja superhero today?"

"Better than you, I think." Ziva moved into his personal space in one fluid motion, then gently traced around the contusion on his brow with a finger before lightly slapping him on the cheek. "You should be home in bed."

Tony had opened his mouth to say something in reply that was most likely either inappropriate or self-deprecating, when he was interrupted as one of Abby's machines suddenly beeped.

The group looked over and Abby rushed to check it, then held up a hand and counted down.

"Three, two, one. Right on time, Gibbs!"

The agent in question had, in fact, walked through the door at that very second.

"What have you got, Abbs?" He asked, handing her a Caf-Pow.

"Thanks Gibbs!" Abby took a slurp. "Well, I have the chemical components of the bomb. Ammonium nitrates and fractionally distillated petroleum."

Gibbs looked at her. "And that's what?"

"In layman's terms: fertilizer and fuel oil." She explained. "Obviously put together by an amateur. I'm guessing that the goal was to have one gigantic kaboom rather than one small kaboom and one mediumish kaboom, but with the class of fuel oil used, the heat would have dissipated too quickly. Also, with the placement of the bomb, most of the force was directed outward. The car wouldn't have even blown up completely if the gas tank hadn't caught fire." She shrugged. "Kinda sloppy, but maybe he was counting on the gas tank exploding right away like they do in the movies. We're lucky that this guy didn't know what he was doing."

Gibbs turned his attention to McGee. "McGee, you watched the security from the parking garage?"

"Yeah, Boss. All the footage from yesterday. No one went near Tony's car. It had to have been put on earlier."

"Well," Tony interjected, "I only rented the car yesterday morning so that's a pretty short window of time for someone to have done something."

"Did you come straight to work?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh… no. I stopped to get coffee."

"Where at?"

"The Stargrounds on Maryland Avenue." Tony grinned. "They have a really cute barista. Brunette, blue eyes, great legs..." He trailed off at the look Gibbs aimed at him. "Shutting up now, Boss."

Concealing an amused smirk with a sip of his coffee, Gibbs turned to McGee and Ziva. "Go check it out."

After they left Tony spoke up again. "One thing I don't understand. If the bomb was put on the car in the morning, then how come it didn't go off as soon as I drove it away?"

"A remote detonator?" Gibbs suggested.

"That could be." Abby agreed. "Of course we won't know for sure till I piece it all back together."

Gibbs nodded. "Tony, help Abby."

"Gotcha, Boss."

As Tony pulled on a pair of latex gloves, Abby followed Gibbs out into the hallway.

"Gibbs, should Tony be here? I mean, don't you think he should go home, at least for today?"

Gibbs sighed. "Abby, I think here is safest for now."

"Oh. Right. Well, don't you worry Bossman. I'll take care of him." She gave a mock salute.

Gibbs gave her a kiss on the cheek. "That's my girl."


	9. What's In A Name?

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Blah, blah, blah, disclaimer stuff, blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas. NCIS is not mine, to my eternal regret.

**Chapter 9**

**What's In A Name?

* * *

**

As Abby returned to the lab Tony gave a wide but weary grin.

"Ah, fair Abigail." He affected an old-timey, slightly British-sounding accent. "What say thou and I put together yon puzzle of metal?"

Abby laughed, and then looked more closely at his drawn face and the dark circles under his eyes. "Did you get _any_ sleep last night, Tony?"

He shrugged, replying in his normal, albeit slightly hoarse, voice. "Some."

"Tony." Abby put her hands on her hips, managing to admonish him with just that one word.

Tony hastened to defend himself. "Well, sleeping's not the easiest thing to do in a hospital. Especially when people keep coming in and poking you every hour to make sure there's enough oxygen in your blood or something."

"Ouch." Abby winced sympathetically as Tony subconsciously rubbed his inner forearm.

"Tell me about it. Besides, you guys didn't get any sleep either."

"Yeah but we're not the ones who just got blown up." She pointed toward her futon in the back room. "Go take a nap."

"But Gibbs said I was supposed to help you."

"You can help me by taking a nap. You're of no use to me if you're dead on your feet." When he didn't move she made a shooing motion with her hands. "Go on."

"Yes, _mom_." Tony rolled his eyes as he complied. "Wake me up at 0630."

Abby held out. "0700."

"Fine." He paused at the door to the back room. "Oh, and if the Red Cross calls, you can tell them I've already donated."

Abby smiled and shook her head. Same old Tony.

* * *

For the past hour, Abby had been absorbed in piecing together the scraps of the bomb, but now she was confused by something she'd found. It didn't make sense, unless…

"Tony!" She called. It was nearly 0700 anyhow.

"Yeah, Abbs. I'm right here." Tony poked his head out from behind her, making her jump a little.

"Oh. You're not supposed to be awake yet." She reproached. "And you shouldn't sneak up on people like that. Have you been taking lessons from Gibbs? Or Ziva?"

He grinned. "Just practicing my stealth. What've you got?"

"Well, what I definitely have _no__t_ got is any sort of transceiver for a remote detonator. It looks like the bomb was wired to the radio."

"Ok." Tony raised an eyebrow inquisitively, not realizing why she thought that was significant.

"It's just that, I know you always listen to talk radio in the morning, so-"

"Abby! Shh!" Tony looked around uneasily. "I do have a reputation to maintain, you know."

Abby giggled. "Sorry. Anyway, I can't think of any reason the bomb wouldn't have gone off then. The mechanism was perfectly functional."

"Well, that one's easy. Yesterday I was on the phone all morning about my car. I didn't have the radio on for once."

Abby took that in, no doubt thinking about what may have happened if Tony had turned on the radio when no one was around to react as quickly as Ziva had. Then she unexpectedly threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"I was really worried about you. I'm glad you're ok."

He smiled. "Yeah, Abbs, I know." They stood that way a few seconds longer before Tony gently detached himself from her grasp. "I'm gonna go let Gibbs know what you've found."

"'Kay."

After Tony left, Abby walked around her lab, checking on her babies that were running different tests. She paused at one machine which was running an unofficial test, as a favor to a friend, and gave it a pat, before turning to address them all.

"Ok you guys, listen up. I know you've been working really hard, and I appreciate it. I do realize this may be asking a lot, but maybe you can try to work just a little bit faster, please? We really need to find something on this case. It's important." She clapped her hands together. "Now, does anyone have any questions? You in the back? No? Alright. Good pep talk. Now back to work, all of you."

* * *

McGee and Ziva had just returned from Stargrounds and Ziva appeared to be in a very black mood.

"We could not get the security footage, Gibbs. They said they would not let us even see it without a warrant."

"Ziva even threatened them, Boss." McGee put in. "They wouldn't budge."

"Well, _get_ a warrant." Gibbs replied.

"Working on it, Boss."

Tony walked into the bullpen in the midst of this.

"Hey McGee, did you see that cute barista there? What's her name? It's something that repeats, right? Lulu, Cici, Zsa Zsa…"

"Gigi." McGee informed him.

Tony snapped his fingers. "That's it."

"Yeah, she was there. So what?"

"I bet I could've gotten her to let us see the footage."

Ziva scowled. "No, I do not think even _you_ could have, Tony."

"The assistant manager happens to be a law student with an attitude and something to prove." McGee explained.

"Hmm." Tony considered this. "Female or male?"

"Who?" McGee asked.

"The assistant manager." He explained in a duh sort of voice.

"Female." McGee replied suspiciously, thinking he knew where Tony was going with this.

"Well," Tony tilted his head, a glint in his eyes. Yup. He was going there.

"Tony." McGee cut him short, exasperated.

"What?"

"You don't seriously think you can _flirt_ the security tapes away from her?"

Tony straightened his collar and winked. "Maybe."

"You think _I_ didn't try charm, Tony?"

Tony patted McGee on the shoulder. "Don't worry Tim, I'm sure you _tried_."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" McGee argued.

"Just, that…" Tony shrugged. "You know."

"No, I don't know."

"Well, it's just that I'm a little better at that sort of thing than you. Don't feel bad. You've got the computer thing. You-"

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs thankfully interrupted at that point before the discussion could turn into some macho contest of male dominance.

"Yeah, Boss." Tony turned his attention to the team leader.

"Have you got something?"

"Well, Abby says that the bomb was _not_ detonated remotely. It was wired to the radio."

"So, whoever put it there wouldn't need to be within range for it to detonate." McGee reasoned.

"Right."

"But that still doesn't rule anyone out who _was_ nearby." Ziva pointed out.

Deliberately misunderstanding her, Tony teased. "Is that a confession, Ziva?"

"I was referring to Ali, as you well know." She retorted.

Tony shook his head. "Nah, I think she's harmless."

Gibbs stared down his senior field agent. "She drove past your apartment four times last night, DiNozzo. That sound harmless to you?"

"Really?" He puzzled over that for a second. "Well, I guess that is kind of strange." Tony found himself wondering exactly how Gibbs had come about that knowledge, because that also seemed a little strange. "It doesn't actually prove anything, though."

Gibbs turned back to Tim.

"What've you got on her, McGee?"

"Putting it up on the plasma." He clicked the remote and a picture of Ali came up on the screen. "Alison Danielle Trahey, born December 18, 1983 in Oak Park, Illinois, just outside of Chicago. Mother deceased; and I couldn't find any information on her father." He shrugged.

"Go on." Gibbs folded his arms.

"She grew up in Oak Park with her grandmother, now deceased. She attended Illinois State University and switched majors several times before graduating with a double major in Journalism and Political Science."

"Well, if she has a degree like that, what is she doing working here, in the mail room?" Tony asked. The others turned to stare at him, pointedly. Was he really that thick or just in denial? "What? The economy can't be _that_ bad."

McGee rolled his eyes before continuing. "She played point guard on the varsity basketball team and was once arrested for being drunk and disorderly. She and some teammates apparently t.p.'d their coach's house."

"What is 't.p.'d'?" Ziva asked, bewildered.

"Come on, Zee-vah. Toilet-papering? It's great. I'll have to show you sometime." Tony laughed a little. "Man. You know, that totally reminds me of something that happened to me and my frat buddies once. See it was the night before a rivalry game, and we-" he quailed at Gibbs' murderous glare. "It's… not important, Boss."

McGee continued. "She got community service for that, and other than that incident, her record is completely clean. Not even a speeding ticket. And I can't find a single connection to Tony."

"Perhaps he once dated her?" Ziva suggested.

"No. No way." Tony denied.

Ziva scoffed. "Are you sure? I know you cannot possibly remember _every_ girl you have ever dated."

"Well, no, but I'd remember her, trust me." Tony insisted. "I told you guys she looks just like my cousin."

Gibbs looked up, narrowing his eyes as something in his gut reacted to that. It was the first he'd heard of this.

"Oh, yes. I forgot. Younger or older cousin?" Ziva asked.

"Older, by a couple of years. You'd probably like her, Ziva. She used to beat me up sometimes."

"Um, Boss?" McGee spoke up.

"You find something McGee?"

"Sort of. I was looking up her mother, Carol Trahey."

Gibbs walked over to the screen to take a closer look and Tony zoned out for a minute.

Carol Trahey. It was definitely ringing a bell. Now where did he know that name from? He looked up to see that he had completely missed McGee telling Gibbs what the connection was exactly. He frowned, about to ask McGee to repeat himself when Gibbs spoke first.

"Good work McGee. That's enough to question her. I want her in interrogation the minute she gets here."

"Got it Boss."


	10. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Blah, blah, blah, disclaimer stuff, blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas. The NCIS universe belongs to Bellisario (a genius, btw) all I did was come up with a new obstacle course for the characters to play on.

**Chapter 10**

**One Step Forward, Two Steps Back.

* * *

**

From the observation room, Tony gazed intently through the two-way mirror. Now that he had been reminded who Carol Trahey was, he was rifling through his memories of her, trying to think of any possible reason the girl sitting in interrogation on the other side of the glass would have to want him dead. He was drawing a blank.

Images of a kind blond woman with an infectious laugh and warm brown eyes flashed through his mind. Carol had liked him, of that he was fairly certain. And he had never known her daughter, never even knew she had a daughter. In fact, Ali probably hadn't even been born the last time he saw Carol. So why on earth would she now be trying to kill him?

His reflections were interrupted as McGee and Ziva joined him.

"Well," McGee began, sounding slightly amused, "I guess you _were_ about due for something weird, Tony. My bet would've been a kidnapping or something, but I guess a crazy stalker works too."

Tony just harrumphed and turned back to the glass.

* * *

Gibbs strode into interrogation.

"Special Agent Gibbs." Ali began, rising.

"Sit." She obeyed. He threw a file down on the table. "I gather you know who I am."

She nodded, looking a bit apprehensive. "By… reputation, mostly."

"Good. Nothing I hate more than having to explain myself." He stared at her, hard. She flinched a little, at first, but then brought her green eyes to meet his icy blue, resolutely.

"Look, Agent Gibbs. I don't know why I'm here, but there has to be some kind of mistake. I haven't done anything."

"Nothing huh? How about harassment? Stalking? Intimidation? Criminal threatening? Attempted murder?" Gibbs spat out the last phrase.

She drew back, looking shocked. "What? Murder?! I… I don't-"

"That's what I can charge you with, to start with. Doesn't sound like nothing to me."

* * *

"You know, it's weird." McGee mused. "For a crazy stalker, she seemed pretty nice."

Ziva shrugged. "It is always the nice ones. That is what they say, correct?"

Tony turned toward her, a small smile on his face. "Actually, they say it's always the _quiet_ ones, Zee-vah. But I'll give you this one because I think you got the general principle right."

* * *

Down in the forensic lab, the thermal cycler that was running Abby's unofficial test gave a telltale beep, indicating it had found a match.

Abby's eyes widened as she read through the results.

"No way! No. Freakin'. Way."

* * *

"What I want to know is why?" Gibbs grilled her. "Did he reject you, huh? Did he put away someone close to you? What is it?"

Ali looked perplexed.

Gibbs slammed his hands down on the table, raising his voice. "_Why_ are you stalking Agent DiNozzo?"

"Agent DiNozzo? Tony? I'm not- Wait! Are you saying that someone tried to kill _Tony_?" Ali seemed genuinely distressed. "What- Is… is he ok?"

Gibbs didn't answer, just stared her down.

Ali was taken aback. "You think I had something to do with this? I didn't. I swear! Why would I?"

Gibbs shrugged, almost casually. "I thought you could answer that for me. And then maybe you can tell me why someone with your credentials is working here as a mail clerk."

Ali exhaled. "It's… it's a really long story."

Gibbs leaned forward. "Oh, we've got plenty of time." He promised, giving her his most intimidating glare.

Looking straight at him, she answered. "It's not what you think."

"Really? Cuz I _think_ that you're working here because of DiNozzo."

"Ok." Ali frowned. "Maybe it is sort of what you think. Do I need a lawyer or something?"

"Depends. Did you do something wrong?"

"No."

"Then why would you ask for a lawyer?"

* * *

Ziva turned to McGee. "McGee, why do you think a woman like Ali would be after Tony?"

McGee pretended to think. "Tony would probably claim it's because he's irresistible."

Tony shook his head reproachfully. "Don't steal my jokes, McPilfer. It doesn't suit you."

"But," McGee continued, "in general I would say he'd probably driven her crazy with his incessant movie quotes and childish behavior."

"Well, you're right about one thing. I _am _pretty good at driving women crazy." Tony gave a suggestive grin.

His teammates scoffed and turned back to the interrogation.

* * *

"You drove past Tony's place last night."

"Yes. I did." Ali admitted, seeming surprised that Gibbs knew.

"Four times." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Seems an awful lot like stalking." Gibbs' eyes bored into hers.

"I wasn't… I just… I wanted to talk to him. But he wasn't home."

"You never went to the door. How would you know he wasn't home? Unless you knew he was in the hospital because you were the one who tried to kill him last night."

"No! I just figured that he wasn't there because I didn't see his car."

"So, you know what car Tony drives? That's not helping your case here."

Ali gave a sigh. "Well, of course I know what he drives. I couldn't help but notice a car like that. A 1967 Camaro 350 isn't exactly inconspicuous, you know."

Gibbs allowed himself a slight eye roll. DiNozzo did have a taste for ostentatious cars.

* * *

Abby rushed out the door of her lab, results in hand and pigtails flapping madly. In front of the elevator door, she punched the up button several times in quick succession. As she waited for the car to come to her level she tapped her toes anxiously and then did a little dance in place.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on." She chanted impatiently.

Unable to wait any longer, she made a dash for the stairs. Tearing up the steps and through the hall toward interrogation, her lab coat billowing out comically behind her, the forensic scientist ran smack into someone as she rounded a corner.

Her mind processed that she had just bowled over Jed from evidence lockup and she called out a quick "Sorry!" over her shoulder, but didn't stop or even slow down. As he righted himself, she vaguely heard him shout something after her about crazy people and too much caffeine.

Oh well. She'd have to make it up to him later. This was much more important.

* * *

"I should never have come to D.C. This whole thing was a mistake." Ali buried her head in her hands.

"Going after one of my people is always a mistake." Gibbs growled.

Ali's head snapped up and she fixed him with a scowl of her own. "You don't understand. It's not like that at all."

"Then what's it like? Explain."

* * *

The door to observation suddenly flew open with such force that it hit the far wall. Tony, McGee, and Ziva all turned to look, surprised, as Abby burst into the room.

"Ok everybody, hold the phone! I've got something good!" She announced, panting slightly, her hair askew.

Ziva looked around the room, confused. "What phone are you referring to, Abby?"

"It's an expression, Ziva. It means to stop what we're doing." Tony explained patiently. He turned to Abby. "What is it, Abbs?"

"This!" Abby waved the paper in her hand excitedly. "I ran all the way here after I got these results, and let me tell you it wasn't the easiest thing. These platforms are a good 4 inches, and definitely not the best for running in. I really do need to keep more appropriate footwear around here for occasions like these, you know? I mean, I keep extra clothes around, so maybe a decent pair of sneakers would be a good idea. Ooh or some cozy slippers could be handy. Well, not for running, obviously, but just for comfort's sake-"

"Abby." Tony broke in as soon as Abby paused to take a breath. "What results?"

"Well, first of all, for those of you who weren't convinced that Ali really is who she says she is; unless she's some sort of super-secret spy who's connected with some really good hackers-which I seriously doubt- I can say for sure that she definitely _is_ Allison Trahey from Oak Park, Illinois. But-" She paused dramatically. "She may be something more. I found something when I ran the hair for DNA. I was running it against every database I could think of to see if-"

Tony interrupted. "Wait, hair? What hair? Whose hair?"

"Ali's hair, of course." Abby rolled her eyes as if that should have been obvious.

Tony looked perplexed. "How did you get Ali's hair?"

"Ziva gave it to me. She wanted me to see if Ali was related to any ex-cons who might be after you."

Tony turned to the Israeli. "Ziva, do I want to know how you got Ali's hair?"

"Well, yesterday, in the elevator-" Ziva began.

"You know what?" Abby interrupted what was sure to be a highly entertaining anecdote. "It doesn't really matter right now, because what I found… is big. Really, _really_ big. Huge, even. Enormous. Massive. Colossal. It's so big, it-"

"You guys, listen." McGee cut short Abby's rant. He'd been paying attention to Gibbs and Ali on the other side of the glass. The others leaned in, now focusing on the interrogation too.

"What did she just say?"

* * *

"What did you just say?" Gibbs asked, not quite believing his ears.

"Tony… Agent DiNozzo… is my brother." Ali repeated.

"Your brother?" Gibbs replied, incredulous.

"Well… half. Brother. We- we have the same father."

* * *

Absolute stunned silence permeated the room on the other side of the mirror until Abby cut in, brightly.

"Ok, well she _totally_ stole my thunder."

"Abby?" Ziva asked. "You knew this?"

"Well, I didn't actually _know_ it till my babies told me, but I knew something was hinky with this whole thing. I could feel it in my bones."

"In your bones?" McGee asked.

"What? Gibbs feels things in his gut; I feel things in my bones."

* * *

"And what makes you think that Tony's father is your father?" Gibbs questioned.

"Well, before I was born, my mother was his secretary. She died when I was young and my grandmother never told me who my father was. I'm not even sure whether she knew. But after my grandmother passed away last year, I found some old things of my mother's in a box up in the attic."

"Things." Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

"Her diary, some letters, things like that. I read them, and, well, I just kind of figured it out. And I went to go see him."

"Him?"

"Anthony DiNozzo Sr. My… father. Wow. It's still kind of weird to say."

* * *

The team all turned to look at Tony.

He hadn't moved since hearing Ali's revelation and was staring through the mirror in astonishment.

"Tony?" Abby started toward him.

Tony didn't appear to have heard her.

She touched his arm. "Tony? Are you ok?"

He turned to her, still looking dazed. "Is it true, really?"

"Oh, it's true." Abby was adamant. "You two share a parent. Of course, considering I don't actually have Daddy DiNozzo's DNA to run I can't be 100% conclusive, but the probability of someone randomly pretending to be your sister and then turning out to actually be such a close genetic match are… well, I can't think of the exact odds off the top of my head, but they've got to be pretty wild. Something like 1 in 500 million."

Tony rested his forehead against the glass with a very peculiar expression on his face.

* * *

Ali continued with her story. "I'm not sure why I wanted to meet him; I guess I thought maybe he'd want to meet me too. But he didn't. He first denied being my father, and then he thought I wanted money. I don't know if I expected him to greet me with open arms, but he didn't want anything to do with me."

* * *

"Didn't want anything to do with her." Tony muttered. "Well, she's clearly met my father," he proclaimed to the room at large, not for a second pulling his attention away from the drama unfolding across the way.

* * *

"So you came to D.C. to meet Tony?"

"Yeah, well in the letters my mother had mentioned a son. Tony. I was curious so I tracked him down, but I was afraid that he might react the same way that… our father did if I told him who I was. I wanted to get to know him, but I didn't want to just come in and mess up his life."

* * *

"Yeah, she's _definitely_ been talking to my father." This was said in a slightly bitter tone of voice, but Tony still looked bewildered by the turn of events.

Ziva folded her arms. "Tony, even if she is your half-sister, it does not mean she could not still be the one trying to kill you."

Abby shook her head emphatically. "No. That's something else I came to tell you guys. I checked the security footage from Monday for the time you were at the crime scene, and Ali was here at work the whole day. There's no way that she could've been the one who tried to run Tony down. Which is good and bad, I guess, because it means we're back to zero suspects."

"She could have an accomplice." Ziva persisted stubbornly.

"Oh come on Ziva, give it up. She's not Ari." Tony told her sharply, immediately regretting it when he saw the hurt on her face. "Ziva wait, I didn't mean..."

Ziva ignored him and stepped out of the room.

McGee watched her go then looked back at Tony. "Wow, Tony. That was a little harsh."

"I know!" Tony snapped, and then sighed, rubbing his temple with one hand. He was starting to get a headache. "I know, ok? I'll apologize to her later."

Making up his mind, he left the room too.

McGee and Abby let out twin gasps as they saw him open the door to the room on the other side.

"I don't think Tony has _ever_ interrupted Gibbs in interrogation before." McGee looked at Abby for confirmation.

Abby shook her head slowly. "Nope. Never."

* * *

"So I took the job working here, just so I could maybe get to know him, and I was trying to get up the nerve to talk to him but I'm sure I screwed up any chance that he might want to get to know me. I acted so weird around him he probably thinks I'm a total freak now."

At that moment the door to interrogation opened and Tony slipped in. "No, he doesn't." He addressed Gibbs. "Boss, can I talk to her? Alone?"

Gibbs first instinct was to yell at Tony for disturbing him in interrogation, but the look on his second's face convinced him that it could wait. He gave a curt nod and left the room.

Tony slowly walked over to the chair Gibbs had just vacated and sat down in front of Ali. He studied her face. She looked equal parts eager and apprehensive.

He leaned forward and extended his hand. "Let's start over. Anthony DiNozzo. I guess I'm your brother. Nice to meet you."

A look of surprise flitted briefly across her face before being quickly replaced with a thrilled smile as she shook his hand. "Alison Trahey. I guess I'm your sister. And likewise."


	11. Breaking The Ice

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Blah, blah, blah, disclaimer stuff, blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas. NCIS is not mine, to my eternal regret. The NCIS universe belongs to Bellisario (a genius, btw) all I did was come up with a new obstacle course for the characters to play on.

**Chapter 11**

**Breaking The Ice

* * *

  
**

Tony drummed his fingers rhythmically on the table, mostly to break up the uncomfortable silence. It was not often that he found himself at a loss for words, but this unquestionably took the cake. What exactly do you say to the half-sister you never knew existed?

"So…" he began.

Ali gave a nervous chuckle when nothing more was forthcoming. "So…"

* * *

Gibbs watched the slightly awkward scene in the next room for a few seconds before turning to Abby.

"Is this for real Abbs?"

"Oh, yeah. Totally legitimate." She assured him, handing him the sheet of results. "DNA doesn't lie."

He held the paper up close to his face, squinting, before giving up on reading the small print. Without his glasses he'd just have to take Abby's word for it.

"But Gibbs," Abby furrowed up her brow in confusion, "how did you know that I would know? No one else except Ziva even knew that I was running a DNA test."

Gibbs quirked an eyebrow but didn't answer, instead replying with another question. "So she's definitely not a suspect?"

Abby shook her head. "No way, Bossman. I mean, I guess anything is possible, but she's got a watertight alibi for Monday. She was here all day."

Back to square one then.

"Come on." He inclined his head for Abby and McGee to follow him out of the room, indicating that they should give Tony and Ali a little privacy.

* * *

Best to just dive right into it. "So, your mom was Carol?"

"Yeah." Ali confirmed.

Tony nodded slowly. "I liked Carol. I think she was probably my favorite of all my dad's secretaries. He tended to go through them pretty quick but somehow your mom managed to stay around for a few years." He got a faraway look in his eyes as he reminisced. "She would give me lollipops when I had to sit and wait at the office sometimes. And she used to come and cheer at my Little League games when my father was too busy."

Ali smiled. "That sounds nice."

"Yeah, I guess. Of course, he was busy pretty much all the time." Tony scoffed a little resentfully before changing the subject. "You look like her a bit, you know?"

Ali beamed at this. "I've only seen a couple of pictures of her," she confessed, "mostly from when she was really young."

"Really? I've got a picture of her somewhere that I'll have to show you. It was taken right before I went off to military school when I was twelve. I think that was the last time I saw her; she quit soon after that."

"Well, you probably remember her better than I do. I was only three when she died."

His eyes grew sympathetic and he moved his chair a little closer. "How did it happen?"

"It was a car accident."

Tony felt something inside twist at her words as he looked down. "I'm sorry."

Ali shrugged, a little sadly. "It's ok. You can't really miss what you don't remember having, you know?"

In truth, Tony didn't entirely agree with this statement, but he nodded anyway for Ali to continue.

"After she died, my grandmother raised me. She was good to take me in, but she didn't talk about my mother very much. I think it was kind of a sore subject. Her only child showing up after years, pregnant and unmarried, and then dying and leaving her with a kid to take care of? It would be tough on anyone."

"Yeah, probably." Tony agreed.

"I had pretty much given up on ever finding out who my father was, and then I found my mother's diary. Suddenly I had a name, and I learned that he didn't even know she was pregnant when she left. I was determined to track him down and tell him who I was." She grimaced ruefully. "In hindsight it probably wasn't the brightest idea I've ever had."

Tony shrugged. "Seems logical enough to me."

"When I was younger, I always used to imagine my father showing up to claim me, and then whisking me off to a new life somewhere." Ali rolled her eyes. "Silly, I know. Of course, when I imagined him, he always looked kind of like Tom Selleck."

Tony smiled. "Tom Selleck? Really?"

Ali nodded, laughing. "Yeah. So I went to New York to find him, and as soon as I laid eyes on him I knew. I knew he had to be my father. I could see myself in him. The same when I came here and saw you. You look an awful lot like him, you know?"

"Yeah, I've been told that. It's the eyes, right?"

"Yeah. And the smile. Not that he smiled much after he found out who I was." She looked pensive. "I think my mother really did love him. But they didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things, and he wasn't much for commitment."

"No, he wasn't. Still isn't, as far as I know." Tony shook his head, recalling his numerous ex-stepmothers. "You know, it's probably better your mother never told him about you. I know he didn't want any more kids. Heck, he didn't much want the kid he already had. Trust me; you didn't miss out on much where our father is concerned."

Ali frowned. "Let's not talk about him anymore right now."

"Alright. What should we talk about?"

Ali pointed to the sutures on his forehead. "How about what happened to you last night? Someone tried to kill you?"

Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Just a little car bomb. No big deal."

"A car bomb? As in someone blew up your car? And it's no big deal?" Ali was incredulous.

"Well, it wasn't actually _my_ car. Now that _would _be a big deal. As it was though, it was just another day's work for an NCIS special agent."

"Really? Does this happen to you a lot?"

Tony looked thoughtful. "Actually, yes. More than you'd think. But enough about me, tell me about you. I heard you played college basketball."

"How did you know that?"

"Well, we sort of… looked into your background. You know, when you were a suspect." Tony met her eyes sheepishly.

"Oh." Ali nodded. "Right. Yeah, varsity. I played point guard."

"That was my position."

"Really?" Ali looked intrigued.

"Yup. Ohio State. I played football too. Quarterback."

"I guess athletic ability runs in the family."

"You know, I'm not actually sure if Senior ever played sports. He never talked about it. But then, we didn't talk much, even back then." Tony frowned. "Sorry. I forgot. Not talking about him."

He smiled brightly. "So, journalism. How did you get interested in that?"

"Well, it took me a long time to decide what I wanted to do with my life. I switched majors a lot. For a while I wanted to be a physical therapist, but I realized that I don't have the patience necessary. I thought of being a lawyer, but the idea of reading so many law books put me to sleep. I was a business major for about a semester, but I don't really have a head for math. Then I decided I was going to be a doctor, but my first day of medical lab I discovered that I can't stand the sight of blood." Ali laughed. "I became very intimately acquainted with the tile."

Tony chuckled at her imagery. "Would you believe that I once thought of being a doctor?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. A dermatologist though. Good pay, good hours, you know?" He shrugged. "But being a cop was a little more exciting. I was a detective in Baltimore before I came to NCIS."

Ali looked impressed. "I always thought it would be really cool to be a detective, like Sherlock Holmes, or Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys."

"So how did you finally decide on journalism?"

"Well, I'm good at writing. And poking my nose into other peoples' business."

"Wow, does that run in the family too?"

Ali laughed a little. "I guess so. Plus, I've sort of always wanted to be Lois Lane. She's, like, my idol."

"Yeah?" Tony grinned at this admission.

Ali blushed a little. "Yeah, well, she did win a Pulitzer for the first exclusive interview with the Man of Steel. Superman is my absolute favorite superhero."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Superman's ok." He allowed. "But personally I prefer Batman. Or else James Bond; I think he should count as a superhero. He's got just as many cool gadgets as the Bat."

Ali shrugged. "I guess he could count. I don't really know. I've never seen any James Bond movies."

Tony looked appalled. "You've never seen any James Bond movies? Not one? From Russia With Love? Dr. No? Goldfinger? License To Kill? Casino Royale?"

Ali shook her head at each title. "Nope, sorry."

"That's, that's almost sacrilege!" Tony stammered in disbelief.

"I did _read_ Casino Royale once." She offered helpfully.

"Well, that's it then. I'm just going to have to introduce you to this film franchise. How do you feel about a movie night?"

"I feel… awesome about a movie night."

"Great! Tonight ok?"

"Sure."

* * *

As Tony and Ali stepped out of the elevator, the squad room was abuzz and the many curious stares and whispers directed their way proved that the scuttlebutt was already running rampant through NCIS.

"Hey!" Tony barked at a small cluster of gawking probationary agents. "Take a picture. It'll last longer."

Abby rushed over to them and began talking a mile a minute. "Hey you guys! Did you have a good talk? Tony, you need to go talk to Ziva right now. Ali will be down in my lab when you're done."

Not even pausing for breath, she took Ali by the arm and whisked her away back into the elevator before either sibling could protest.

Tony winced as he remembered his earlier thoughtless words. He made his way over to Ziva at her desk.

"Hey Ziva."

She looked up at him, her face completely blank. "Yes?"

He ran a hand through his hair, silently cursing whatever caused his mouth to work faster than his brain at times.

"Look, about what I said before-"

"Stop." Ziva interrupted. "It is fine."

"Is it?"

She shrugged, turning back to her computer.

"Ziva. I'm trying to apologize here." He studied her face, hoping to see something other than ice in her eyes. "Oh, come on. You know I always put my foot in my mouth. I think this time I've got them both stuck in there, and good. You wanna help me out?"

When Ziva didn't crack a smile or even look at him, he gave up. "Fine. You know what? Whatever."

As Tony walked away, Ziva watched him go, unhappily.

* * *

In the elevator, Abby reached over and flicked the emergency switch. Ali looked at her in confusion.

Abby took a deep breath. "I'm going to say this once, and once only, alright? The thing you need to know about Tony, is that he doesn't let people in very easily. He's letting you in. Now, I like you Ali, but if you screw that up, if you hurt him…" She shook her head. "Well, just know that I am one of the few people in the world who can kill you and leave no forensic evidence."

Ali nodded slowly, a glimmer of a smile on her face. "Duly noted."

"Alright then." Abby reached over and flicked the switch again before turning to grin at Ali. "We should get along just fine."

Ali grinned back.

Surprisingly, this was only the second weirdest thing that had happened to her in the elevator that week.

* * *

As Tony walked into Abby's lab, Abby and Ali were laughing together over something.

Tony smiled at the sight. "Well, you two are certainly getting chummy."

"I've just been telling Ali all kinds of embarrassing stories about you." At Tony's mock glare Abby smirked. "I'm just kidding! I can't help it if your sister is cool, Tony."

"Careful Ali." Tony teased. "She'll probably talk you into getting a tattoo next."

"I already have a tattoo."

"Of what?" Tony asked.

"And where?" Abby added.

"Shooting stars. On my back."

"Let's see it." Abby demanded.

Ali lifted the back of her shirt about halfway. The design was outlined in black and the tails of the stars delicately entwined as they wove their way up the middle of her back.

"Ooh! Pretty!" Abby exclaimed.

"Hey guys -" McGee stopped dead in the doorway, gaping.

The other three looked over at the sound of his voice, and Ali let out a barely perceptible squeak as she hurriedly pulled her shirt back down. McGee reddened slightly.

Noticing this, Abby and Tony exchanged a conspiratorial glance.

"So, Abby," Tony began, a little louder than was called for. "Ali and I were planning on a movie night tonight after work. My place: a little James Bond, a little pizza. Care to join us?"

"Why Tony, I would love to." Abby smiled widely.

He turned to McGee. "How about you Tim? You coming?"

"Sure, I guess."

"All right then. You're in charge of drinks."

"Well," Ali paused, smiling around at the group, "I'd better go get back to work. I guess I'll see you guys later."

She waved before stepping out the door.

McGee watched her go, a slow grin spreading across his face. Suddenly Tony reached over and whacked the back of his head.

McGee turned, surprised. "Hey! What was that for?"

"That was for what you were thinking, McGoo."

"What? I- I wasn't- Tony! How would you know what I was thinking?"

Tony just stared at him, narrowing his eyes.

McGee scoffed. "Sorry Tony, you haven't quite got the Gibbs glare down yet."

"The 'Gibbs glare'?"

McGee jumped about a foot when the voice came from right behind him.

"Boss! I-"

Gibbs turned his attention to Abby. "What have you got for me Abbs?"

Abby giggled a little at the look on McGee's face before turning to her lab table. "Well, the mysterious fibers are mysterious no longer. According to Major Mass Spec, they are particles of rayon filaments coated with polychlorinated biphenyls or PCBs."

At a look from Gibbs she began to explain.

"PCBs are basically a synthetic organochlorine. They were used as a flame retardant in textile manufacturing but were banned in the US in the late 70s because of the extreme toxicity. This is some pretty nasty stuff. It's known to cause liver damage and a whole bunch of immune and neurological effects."

"So this is from some kind of closed down textile factory?" Gibbs asked.

"Most likely." Abby confirmed. "That doesn't help much though. There are nearly a dozen old factories that used PCBs in the greater D.C. area alone. Although, I could try to narrow it down some by figuring out which factories used this specific cogener of PCBs."

She reached for the Caf-Pow Gibbs had brought with him.

Gibbs held the precious caffeinated beverage just out of reach and raised an eyebrow.

"Correction. I _will_ narrow it down." Abby held out her hand expectantly.

Gibbs gave a half-smile and handed over the drink. "Good answer."

As Abby took a loud slurp Gibbs turned to walk out. But before leaving, he reached out a hand on each side and simultaneously headslapped Tony and McGee.

"That's for calling it the 'Gibbs glare.'"


	12. Down For The Count

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Blah, blah, blah, disclaimer stuff, blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas...

*Thanks are due to **Renthead07 **for her help writing 'The Elevator Incident' scene and to **cheekymice **for assuring me that my idea was not stupid. :D*

**Chapter 12**

**Down For The Count  
**

* * *

The lights from the television flickered softly on the group as Sean Connery made his way across screen. Tony and Abby shared a giant beanbag on the floor, having contrived for the other two to end up together on the couch. McGee and Ali had seemed a little awkward in that position at first, but as the night moved on they grew more comfortable with each other.

Glancing to his right, Tony saw Tim scoot a little closer to Ali and surreptitiously snake an arm around her shoulder. Well, that was sure comfortable, all right.

Tony guessed that all those tips (and digs) he'd given the Probie about girls over the years had paid off. Of course, it was a little disconcerting to see those moves being used on his sister, his _little_ sister —which was still a mind-blowing concept in and of itself—but she didn't seem to mind. And after all, as Abby said, they really did look cute together.

Tony turned his attention back to the screen to see Bond in the arms of yet another gorgeous woman with deadly skill and a foreign accent. Great. It seemed everything he saw or heard today was determined to remind him of his fight with Ziva.

_Not really a fight, though__._ He mused. _If we had been fig__hting there would have been pain,__ lots and lots of pain__. A__nd __all of it mine._

_Argument then?_

He shook his head. That didn't exactly fit either.

Well, it didn't really matter anyway. By the end of the day, everyone in the office had somehow known the two were quarreling with each other, even if they didn't know exactly why. As a result, when Ziva didn't show up for movie night, McGee and Abby had seemed to know better than to ask where she was, and Ali didn't know well enough to realize that she was missing.

The truth was Tony hadn't invited her.

He knew he had hurt her feelings earlier, something that was not easy to do, but he _had_ apologized. And she had immediately rebuffed his apology. He nearly invited her anyway, as a peace offering, but seeing that she was currently giving him the cold shoulder he doubted she would have even let him get the words out.

It was probably for the best anyway, considering he knew she was still was suspicious of Ali and most likely would have gone out of the way to make her feel uncomfortable.

And, despite his off-hand comment the previous day, he didn't actually want to see a chick-fight in his living room in the near future, at least not when one of the 'chicks' was his sister.

He'd just have to wait and let Ziva cool off. He would try to apologize again tomorrow. The last thing he wanted was the ex-Mossad assassin angry at him, particularly when within reach of office supplies.

To his left on the beanbag, Abby was obviously fighting to stay awake. Tony knew she had to be tired after staying up for two days straight. Even with the amount of caffeine the Goth consumed daily, her eyes would only stay open for so long.

He smiled fondly as Abby snuggled into his side, nearly drifting off. She was such a good friend to him. He had almost been expecting jealousy on Abby's part after this recent revelation since she had occupied the little sister spot in his life for so long, but she and Ali had really hit it off, for which he was grateful.

As the movie ended and the credits played, Abby let out a light snore and her head drooped against Tony's shoulder.

Tony chuckled. "Looks like the Energizer Bunny finally crashed."

"Well, I guess the Caf-Pow had to wear off sometime," McGee pointed out. He glanced down at his watch and quickly stood up. "Wow. It _is _getting kind of late. I'll take her home."

"Abbs. Hey Abby," Tony called, tugging a pigtail. "Wakey, wakey."

Abby just shifted and mumbled in her sleep.

Tony began poking her in the shoulder repeatedly, "Come on Sleeping Beauty. Do you need a kiss from the handsome prince?" He teased.

"Hmm? I'm up," Abby opened her eyes groggily, smiling as she registered Tony's last words. "Handsome prince? And who would that be, exactly?"

Tony pretended to be highly insulted. "You don't think I'm handsome?"

"Handsome, sure. Princely…? It's a reach," She gave a wide yawn and stretched.

Tony rose and extended a hand to help her up. "Aw, shucks Abby. That hurts."

"Ha." Abby grabbed his hand and stood, giving him a little punch in the arm. "As if you need another boost to your ego."

Tony grinned, conceding this.

"Well, thanks for inviting us over Tony," McGee headed for the door, then turned back. "I'll, uh, I'll call you, Ali." The way he phrased it made it sound like a question.

Ali smiled happily, "Sure."

McGee smiled back in relief and stepped outside.

"Well, bye guys! This was fun. We should do it again sometime. But with Caf-Pow next time," Abby covered another yawn with her hand and paused at the door. "Oh, by the way Ali, you know you don't really have gray hair, right? Just in case you were wondering." She gave a wave and followed McGee.

Tony closed the door after them and turned to Ali, baffled. "What did she mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing," Ali replied innocently.

Tony looked at her quizzically. "Ok..."

"Just a little… thing that happened yesterday."

*

_Ali visibly jumped as Agent David stood next to her in the elevator, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Why was she so distracted today?_

"_Oh… hello," she murmured awkwardly._

"_Hello," Ziva answered curtly, moving a bit too close for comfort. "Going home?"_

"_Um… yes. Soon," Ali looked away from Ziva uneasily. "I just have to finish up a few things first and put my mail cart back where it belongs. You?"_

"_Perhaps. We do not always go home at night when we are in the middle of an investigation."_

"_Ah." Ali nodded and looked away again. She could feel Ziva's eyes boring into her. It was a bit intimidating, but she tried not to show that it bothered her. Considering the death glare she had received that morning, she got the feeling that for some reason the agent didn't like her much._

_After several long moments, Ali thought of something to break the ice. Turning back to Ziva, she asked, "So… are you and Tony-"_

"_-boyfriend and girlfriend?" Ziva cut her off sharply. "No, we are not. We are strictly coworkers."_

"_Oh. I just wondered." Ali bit her lip and stared at the floor. Just how many stories did this building have anyway?_

_Suddenly, Ali felt a sharp pain on the top of her head which vanished as quickly as it had come._

"_Ow!" she exclaimed. _

_She quickly realized what had caused it but couldn't believe it: Ziva had pulled out a few of her hairs._

_Eyes watering slightly, she turned to Ziva, astonished. _

_"Hey! What the heck was that for?"_

"_You had a couple grays," Ziva replied simply._

"_A couple… What? I…" Ali stammered, insulted. "You don't just pull someone's hair out like that! It's very rude!"_

"_It won't happen again," Ziva had a slight smirk on her face as she not-quite-apologized._

_The elevator stopped just then on the lobby floor and the doors opened. Ali, still in shock, walked out quickly, completely overlooking her mail cart. A second later, she came back for it, avoiding Ziva's unbroken gaze as her face flamed bright red._

_She made a beeline for the women's restroom, muttering to herself, "A gray hair? It couldn't be…"_

_*  
_

Ali unconsciously reached back and rubbed the crown of her head. She'd spent over 20 minutes in front of the mirror painstakingly combing through her blonde waves to make absolutely certain there were no grays. "You know, Agent David kind of scares me."

Tony laughed, remembering a little regretfully he was still at odds with said agent. "Well, you're in good company. A lot of people feel that way. In fact, I'm a little scared of her, myself, at the moment."

Ali wrinkled her brow in confusion. "You are? I thought you guys were partners."

"We are. I just… said something kind of stupid and now she's pissed at me. Believe me, she is not someone you want to piss off."

"Yeah, that's the impression I get." Ali recalled the frowns and glares that had been directed her way every time she walked past the last couple of days, besides what she was now calling 'The Elevator Incident.' She just wasn't sure what she'd done to make the other woman so angry.

Tony picked up the empty pizza box and began gathering the discarded napkins, plates, and cups. "I'm just going to go wash these dishes up really quick."

"Well, I can help you with that," Ali offered, reaching to relieve him of some of the pile he was now holding.

Tony turned away, pulling the stack out of reach. "Oh no you don't. You're a guest." He headed down the hall toward the kitchen, calling out over his shoulder. "Seriously, make yourself at home. It'll just take a few minutes."

Ali sat on the couch for a minute, then got up and began to look around the room.

The first thing that was immediately obvious to her was Tony's fondness for cinema, judging by his impressive theater system and immense DVD collection.

She ran her finger along the titles on a shelf. He had quite the assortment of movies, not to mention the boxed sets of several TV series.

"So, I guess you're a big Magnum PI fan, huh?" She called loudly to be heard over the running water.

She heard Tony laughing from the other room as he shut off the water and then walked back to the living room to join her.

"Yeah," he acknowledged, "among other things. Obviously."

Ali smiled and continued browsing along the shelves on the wall. She stopped at an MVP plaque with a picture of a beaming college-aged Tony in a football uniform, kneeling and holding his helmet.

"Wow. You look so young there."

"Well, I was… I think 21 when that picture was taken. Hey wait-" he glared, "I _know_ you're not saying that I look old now!"

Ali just rolled her eyes and smirked. She was getting used to Tony's humor. "You must've been a really good player."

"Yeah, I almost went pro, but then I broke my leg senior year."

"Oh, that sucks," she grimaced sympathetically.

"Yeah, well…" he shrugged, then suddenly grinned. "You wanna see my favorite college award?" He pulled out a paper from behind the plaque and handed it to her.

Ali looked down, slightly puzzled to see a certificate declaring Anthony DiNozzo winner of Ohio State 1992 Mr. Legs Competition.

"I'm guessing this was _before_ you broke your leg?" she asked, grinning wryly even as she raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Tony looked over, startled to see what she was holding. "Whoops!" He actually blushed a little as he switched it with the paper underneath. "I meant this one."

"Beer Pong Champ of Alpha Chi Delta?" she read.

"My fraternity. I was the undisputed champion for that title. Still hold the record, by the way."

"Ah." Ali laughed. "So, football, basketball, fraternity… I'm guessing you were kind of like, big man on campus?"

"Well, probably more like 'party man on campus.'" Tony shook his head apologetically. "But man, did I have a blast in college. And I still keep in touch with my frat brothers. We even get together every once in a while; in fact, we're planning on going on a cruise this coming spring."

Ali smiled, and then noticed something on the side table as she turned away from the wall. "Tony, I think Abby left her keys here."

He glanced over, seeing the familiar skull and crossbones key-chain. "You're right. And she'll be needing those to get into her apartment. I'll just shoot her a quick text." He typed a short message on his phone and then laughed as he immediately got a response. "She noticed them missing a minute ago and they're headed back right now."

Ali had picked up the photo of the team that rested on the table behind the keys. "Nice picture."

"Yeah." Tony remembered when it was taken; soon after they got back from Somalia, when the team was all together again.

"It's cute. You guys look almost like a family," Ali had a wistful look in her eyes.

Tony smiled, "Yeah. Oh! That reminds me. I know I've got that photo of your mom someplace. Wait right here, I'll go find it."

He went down the hall into his bedroom and pulled a shoebox off a shelf in his closet. As he blew a little dust off the lid, he heard a knock at the front door. Huh. That was quick.

"Hey Ali," he called. "Can you get that?"

"Sure, no problem," she answered.

As he took off the top and shuffled through the pictures and papers inside, he heard a muffled crash from the living room.

"Ali?"

There was no answer.

Immediately on guard, Tony pulled one of his backup weapons out of the drawer next to his bed and made his way cautiously into the hallway. As he passed the kitchen, he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He began to turn when suddenly something hard connected with the back of his head.

Tony's world exploded into stars and then darkness as his knees buckled and he collapsed into a heap on the floor.


	13. When It Rains

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Blah, blah, blah. Disclaimer stuff. Blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas and turns of phrase...

*Many thanks to **Renthead07** for her wonderful help and for allowing me to bounce ideas off of her. Enjoy!*

**Chapter 13**

**When It Rains…**

* * *

Ziva turned out of the Navy Yard and drove through the dark D.C. night.

Tony was a conundrum all right. One minute he'd be so irritating with his teasing and juvenile behavior that she could cheerfully beat him to death with a file, and the next minute he'd seem so utterly vulnerable that the only thing she wanted to do was protect him from all the outside influences that conspired against him.

She sighed. She hated it when they were not speaking to each other.

Perhaps she had made too big a deal out of his comment about Ari. Even though it was ancient history, it still hurt for him to throw that in her face. But what had truly made her angry was the fact that she was so concerned about his safety and he was seemingly so cavalier toward the same.

She knew he regretted what he had said and she knew she had acted unfairly in response to his apology, but at that moment the last thing she'd wanted to do was explain to him the real reason she was so upset. So instead she had snubbed him.

Well, now the orb was in her court, as they would say. Or was it 'the ball was in her field'? Stupid idioms.

Ziva made up her mind and turned onto Tony's street, nearly being hit by a dark jeep that was speeding out. She muttered a few choice phrases about what she thought of the driver's parentage, upbringing, and personal hygiene, before pulling up across the street from Tony's apartment.

Recognizing Ali's vivid green Beetle parked in front, she briefly considered leaving but then steeled her resolve and got out of her car.

_Yo__u'll have to do this eventually. _Ziva reminded herself. _She _is_ Tony's __half-__sister__._

She could be civil, she could be cordial, she could admit that _maybe_ she had been wrong. She could do that, right?

She walked up the steps to Tony's apartment and knocked on the door. It fell open at her touch. Wary, she swiftly drew her gun and then froze, her eyes widening in shock and confusion.

* * *

Tony groaned as he regained consciousness. His head pounded and throbbed with every beat of his heart.

"What happened?!" he heard a slightly accented voice exclaim over the persistent ringing in his ears, as if far away and through a tunnel.

_That's what I'd like to know._

Where was he? What was going on?

His eyes fluttered open and he began to sit up, the room spinning dizzily around him. Oh, that was a mistake. Even the slight motion caused a wave of nausea and he turned to his side and threw up. As he closed his eyes tightly, waiting for his stomach to stop turning somersaults, he vaguely felt someone patting his back and murmuring soothingly.

He opened his eyes to see Abby kneeling beside him, looking down at him anxiously, McGee behind her on his phone, and Ziva in the doorway holstering her gun. He pushed himself to a sitting position, gritting his teeth against the queasiness that threatened to overwhelm him again.

McGee hung up his phone. "Gibbs is on his way with Ducky."

"Tony," Abby began gently, her hand still on his shoulder. "What happened?"

He shook his head to try to clear his vision, wincing at the pain that shot through it.

As a kid, he'd always thought it was funny in cartoons when anvils dropped from the sky, but just now he felt nothing but sympathy for their targets.

Suddenly it all came back to him.

Ali.

Movie night.

A knock at the door followed by a crack to the skull.

Not likely by an anvil. That thought was laughable.

He snorted. "Well I guess I know how Wile E. Coyote feels anyway." The words came out slightly slurred.

"What? Tony, what are you talking about?" Abby looked baffled.

Tony was struggling to push past the fog in his brain. He knew that something was wrong, something was missing, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Tony?" Abby asked again, sounding worried. "Talk to me."

"Sorry." He spoke more clearly this time. "Just trying to decide which one of you to answer."

Abby exchanged a look with McGee that said 'yup, he's got another concussion'. Her fingers tenderly probed the swelling on the back of his head. "You've got quite the goose-egg there, my friend."

"Tony, what happened?" McGee asked.

"Somebody knocked at the front door. I thought it was you guys." He suddenly thought of what had been bugging him. "Where's Ali?"

He glanced around the room as if expecting her to be in a corner, and saw the side table upended.

Well, that explained the crash.

Abby looked surprised. "Didn't she leave? She was gone when McGee and I came back."

"No," Tony insisted. "She was still here."

"Are you sure? You know, you probably have a concussion." McGee reminded him.

"I'm sure and I'm fine!" Tony snapped, then immediately wished he hadn't as the words resonated loudly in his head. "I was in the back and Ali answered the door."

"Her car is still in front of the building." Ziva put in.

Tony fought to contain his increasing panic, but Abby did nothing of the sort.

"Oh no! Ali's been kidnapped!" she exclaimed, sounding frantic.

McGee looked puzzled. "Kidnapped? I know Tony's been threatened, but why kidnap Ali?"

"Well," Abby continued somewhat hysterically, her eyes wide with horror. "the latest letter made threats against Tony's family too!"

Tony suddenly felt sick again, but it had nothing to do with his head injury. "And my P22 is gone."

"Are you sure?" asked Ziva.

"Well, it's not here, is it? I had it before I got hit." He bit back a groan, more at this new development than the considerable pain in his head, and cursed. "I'm such an idiot. Not to mention that this entire thing is my fault. How could I have been so stupid?"

"Tony, this isn't your fault," McGee told him.

"Then whose fault is it? Huh, McGee?" Tony demanded, staggering a little as he moved to stand. He waved off assistance and leaned heavily against the wall. "I'm fine. We need to call Gibbs."

"Tony," McGee said, speaking to him as if he were a small child. "We already called Gibbs. He'll be here soon."

"Oh…" he struggled to remember through his still-fuzzy brain.

Ziva spoke up. "How do we know that Ali has been kidnapped?"

His brain couldn't be _that_ fuzzy. "What are you talking about?"

"Well," she began carefully, "I know you may not want to hear it, Tony, but this whole thing does seem rather… convenient."

"Convenient?" Tony still wasn't sure what she was getting at.

"Suspicious."

"Suspicious?" Tony folded his arms defensively. "And just what do you mean by that?"

Ziva folded her own arms in a matching gesture. "I think you know exactly what I mean by that."

They locked eyes intently for several long moments, neither blinking, neither conceding an inch.

Their impromptu staring contest was abruptly broken off when Abby dashed between them over to the doorway where Gibbs had just arrived with Ducky.

"Gibbs!" Abby exclaimed, practically humming with nervous energy. "Gibbs! Ali's missing, and she's probably been kidnapped, and Tony's hurt again, and I think he has another concussion, and… and…"

Gibbs took in the scene with one piercing glance. He turned and began giving orders. "McGee: BOLO. Ziva: prints. Abby-"

Abby stopped her frantic pacing and looked at him. "Gibbs?"

"Calm down."

Abby took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Right. Ok. Oh, I know! I'll go get some ice for Tony."

"Abbs, I'm fine. Barely even have a headache." Tony made as if to stop her.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony looked at him. "What should I do Boss?"

"Sit down and let Ducky look you over."

"But Boss, I'm fine. I just-" Tony began to protest.

"Sit!" Gibbs barked sternly. "Ducky, if he gives you any problems, feel free to sedate him."

Tony scowled deeply at this, but did sit.

Ducky tutted disapprovingly as he began to check Tony over.

"You _have _had quite a knock to the head, haven't you my dear boy? When ever will you learn to stay out of trouble? Although I suppose it can't always be helped. You know, you put me in mind of a dog my mother once had, Terry was his name. Short for Holy Terror." Ducky chuckled. "He was always getting into scrapes and he had no fear, even when it was merited. I remember one day, he met up with a porcupine. It was twice his size, but he was undaunted and would not be called back…" He shook his head. "The poor fellow came out looking more pincushion than Pomeranian."

Tony merely frowned at this narrative.

Ducky shone a penlight into Tony's eyes to check his pupil reaction. "All right Anthony, you know the drill. Follow the light."

Tony unenthusiastically and rather sullenly obeyed. The light made him feel nauseous again and he nearly gagged.

"Any problems with your vision? Hearing? Feeling ill at all?"

"No," he lied. "I'm fine, Ducky."

"He was seeing double before," Abby interjected as she came back into the room and handed Tony a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a washcloth.

Tony looked annoyed, but applied the cold compress to his head. "I'm _fine_," he insisted stubbornly.

"And he threw up after he came to. And then he was all hinky and off-balance when he stood up." Abby folded her arms and stuck out her chin, as if daring Tony to contradict her.

He took her dare and held her gaze. "How many times do I have to say that I'm f-"

"So help me DiNozzo, if you say you're fine one more time, I'll headslap you right into next week!" Gibbs growled, raising his hand as if to carry out the threat.

Not wanting to risk it, Tony closed his mouth and glared hazily in Gibbs' direction.

Ducky came to Tony's rescue. "I don't recommend it, Jethro. Anthony has indeed suffered a moderate concussion, so I would forbear from any headslapping for the moment. It would most definitely do more harm than good."

The ME rummaged through his medical bag for a moment then turned back to Tony, holding out something in his hand. "Now Anthony, the best cure for concussion is rest, as I'm sure you know by now, but I daresay you won't be able to sleep at all if we don't give you something for your headache."

Tony's jaw worked for a minute and then he let out a huff. "Fine," he said, taking the pills from Ducky and dry-swallowing them.

Gibbs watched this, knowing that Tony's head must hurt a lot more than he'd let on if he would take painkillers without even arguing with Ducky.

"That's a good lad," Ducky said, clapping Tony lightly on the shoulder. "And someone will need to stay with you tonight and monitor your condition."

"I don't need a babysitter," Tony objected irritably.

No one paid any attention.

Abby raised her hand. "I volunteer to stay with Tony."

Gibbs shook his head. "No, Abbs."

"But Gibbs…" Abby protested, looking at him pleadingly while clasping her arms around Tony's waist.

"Abby, I need you in your lab. That'll help more. Plus I want an agent with him at all times."

"Protective custody… So who do I get: the Prob-_ie_ or the Prob-_ette_?" Tony mused, the painkillers already beginning to have their loopy way with him. "Who will come out on top: the Johns Hopkins grad or the ex-Mossad assassin? The novelist or the multi-linguist? Sounds like a bad reality show."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "McGee, you're watching Tony tonight. Take him to your place. Ziva and I will finish going over the scene here."

"Got it, Boss," McGee said.

"_Watch__ing_ me? What am I, five?" Tony asked, toying with Abby's fingers.

Again he was ignored.

"You'll need to wake him every hour, Timothy," Ducky instructed. "Make sure he's still coherent. Well," he amended with a look at Tony, "as coherent as can be expected."

Tony shot him a half-hearted glare before turning back to the distractingly shiny bows tied around Abby's pigtails. "I can hear you, you know."

Ducky chuckled, addressing McGee again. "And make sure he takes plenty of fluids, but _not _soda; water, juice, or milk. He needs to stay hydrated. And if he becomes ill again, or has any other worsening symptoms, call me straightaway."

"Will do, Ducky," McGee headed for the door. "Come on Tony, let's go."

Taking one step before realizing he could go no further, Tony stopped. "Abby. You'll have to let go now."

Abby hugged him tight for good measure before complying.

Tony turned to Gibbs.

"Boss," he began, suddenly sober, his eyes downcast. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have let my guard down, I—"

Gibbs cut him off. "Don't apologize, DiNozzo, it's—"

"—a sign of weakness," Tony finished. "Yeah, I know."

Gibbs put a surprisingly comforting hand on Tony's shoulder and gently squeezed. "It's not your fault, Tony. We'll find her."


	14. We Need Umbrellas On The Inside

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Blah, blah, blah. Disclaimer stuff. Blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas and turns of phrase...

*Thanks to **Renthead07 **for her beta work*

*Warning: a bit of angst + traumatic childhood experiences ahead.*

**Chapter 14**

**…We Need Umbrellas On The Inside**

**

* * *

**

Tony felt terrible, in more ways than one; he had let his guard down, gotten hurt, and as a result, Ali was now missing without a trace.

Not only that, but he was also mildly incapacitated, loopy and sick from painkillers, and unable to even help the team with the case. Ziva and Gibbs, in particular, would be working considerable overtime because of his screw-up.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that it took him a minute to realize McGee was talking to him.

"Tony. You need to drink something. Ducky said so."

"Yeah. I know," Tony replied dully. He accepted the glass of water that McGee held out to him and took a sip. "It's warm," he remarked.

"Tony, you have a concussion and you've been throwing up," McGee said. "You'll only be sick again if you drink cold water. It's a shock to your system when you're dehydrated. This way, you'll retain some fluid easier."

"Oh. Hmm," Tony mused. "That's smart. Thanks, Pro— Tim."

McGee watched him carefully.

Tony had barely said a word on the drive over, and now he just sat on the couch, his knees pulled into his chest, staring off into space. McGee knew the other man well enough to know that when he was quiet and listless like this that something was very wrong, but right now he had no idea how to make him feel any better. Or how to break the silence.

Eventually Tony did that for him. "You know, I almost had a little sister once."

McGee was taken aback. "I didn't know that."

He nodded. "Yeah. At least that's what my mother said. Of course, there's no way she could have known the baby would be a girl, but she insisted. She'd always said that she wanted one of each. I suspect what she wanted really was another plaything." He gave a cynical laugh. "I mean, I wore the sailor suits, but she couldn't dress me up as a princess or a ballerina."

Tony was silent for a long moment and McGee thought that perhaps he had fallen asleep, but then he continued.

"After… she lost the baby, she found out she couldn't have any more kids and she got really depressed. I was barely seven then. I didn't really understand why she was so sad all the time or why she wouldn't play with me anymore or why she was always drinking."

McGee was surprised at these frank admissions from Tony, who was usually reticent about personal things like his childhood, but he guessed that they were likely due to the combination of painkillers, exhaustion, and helplessness in the face of the events of the night.

Tony sighed. "You've heard about the sea-monkeys, right?"

At McGee's affirmative nod, he let out a faint huff of amusement. "Yeah. I was eight then. It would have actually been kind of funny if I hadn't been so scared of her at that point. Not because she was a mean drunk or anything—she wasn't. Just because she wasn't… _her_, you know? But when it was so bad that she couldn't tell the difference between my sea-monkeys and her mint julep, I ran outside, climbed up the big pine tree in our backyard, and wouldn't come down for anything. I mean, I always used to play around on it a lot, go there when I wanted to hide and stuff like that. But that day I climbed all the way to the top and just refused to come down. Truthfully, I wasn't even sure that she'd notice."

A ghost of a smile glimmered on Tony's face. "But she did: she called the fire department and everything. And after they got me down, she yelled at me and told me if I ever did something like that again I wouldn't be able to sit for a week. Then she just broke down crying and she said that I had scared her and she didn't want to lose me too. And you know, as bad as I felt for making her cry, I couldn't help but think that that was one of the only times she ever acted like a real mom, instead of just handing me off to a nanny."

He stared down at his hands intensely, as if looking for something hidden there that would put everything right. "I don't think I can do it right, Tim. I don't think I can be a big brother. I don't think I know how to have a family at all, as screwed up as mine was. And I don't know if I ever will."

McGee wished he had the right words to reassure his friend. "You know, I used to wish sometimes that I had a big brother, to teach me how to do things, to tease me, to stick up for me." He looked up in sudden realization. "I'm no expert, but it seems to me that you'd make a pretty good one, Tony."

Tony half-smiled at this. "You think?"

"Yeah, I do." McGee told him honestly.

"Thanks, Tim." Tony blinked and nearly forgot to un-blink, surprised at how heavy his eyelids suddenly were.

McGee noticed his struggle to stay awake.

"Go to sleep Tony. I've got your six."

Tony nodded and relaxed, soon dropping off to sleep.

Settling into the armchair—with his gun out and ready just in case—McGee set the alarm on his phone to go off in an hour.

It could be hard to reconcile these two different sides of Tony: the cocky, self-assured, jokester façade that he showed to the world, and this other that he strove to keep hidden; serious, brooding, troubled.

McGee had caught glimpses of the latter, usually when Tony was particularly stressed or vulnerable, but these instances were few and far between, and afterward they both slipped back into routine and acted like nothing had happened.

He doubted that this time would be any different.

* * *

When McGee's alarm went off the second hour, Tony was tossing and mumbling in his sleep. McGee was about to wake him, when he suddenly sat upright, gasping, and bolted for the bathroom. McGee cringed as he heard the awful retching sounds.

When Tony came out, McGee looked him over with a critical eye.

"Tony, are you feeling worse? Do I need to call Ducky?"

"No, I'm fine… that's not why… I'm fine, really." Tony shivered a little, his eyes two dark hollows in his pale face. "It's just…"

"A nightmare?" McGee guessed.

Tony said nothing, but met his gaze briefly in tacit answer. McGee was unnerved at the sheer anguish and torment evident in the other man's haunted eyes; his usual mask had been wholly abandoned.

"Do… do you want to talk about it?" he asked tentatively, not sure whether Tony would take him up on the offer.

Tony slumped back on the couch and looked anywhere but at McGee, his hands clenched tightly into fists. "Do _you_ want to hear it?"

The challenge was implicit.

McGee hesitated before replying. Did he?

"You can tell me anything, Tony."

Tony looked up, searching McGee's face as if deciding whether he meant it, then continued in a low voice. "Thanks Tim. That means a lot."

He gave a bleak sigh.

"Well, after that day with the sea-monkeys and the tree, my mother was trying to get better. For me, she said. And then I was in the school play- bet you never would've pegged me as a drama geek, huh McGee?" Tony lifted the corners of his mouth slightly, but it was a dim copy of his usual high-wattage beam. "Of course, that _was_ the last time I ever did a play… It was The Three Musketeers and I played Aramis. It was a good role and I really wanted my mother to see me. I wanted her to be proud of me. So I asked her to come and she promised she would, even though she hadn't been out of the house in ages."

Tony swallowed hard. "That night, I looked for her in the audience, but she wasn't there. I was pretty crushed; I'd been so sure that she'd keep her promise. Then after the performance was over, no one even came to pick me up. I waited and watched as everyone else left with their parents, one by one, until finally I was sitting on the edge of the stage all by myself. Eventually the janitor had to kick me out so he could lock up, though I could tell he felt bad. I ended up walking home in the rain and the dark. I remember I was so angry at her for forgetting me…"

Tony seemed to look right through McGee, fully in the past for the moment, then drew in a shuddery breath and went on.

"Then when I got home and I went inside, the police were there. Nobody even had to tell me; I knew right away. It was like the whole world changed forever, right that second. She had tried to keep her promise, you know? She tried to come. But the road was slick and she lost control..." Tony lost the tenuous hold on his emotions and let a tear escape, something McGee had never seen him do before. "I went straight to the backyard, climbed up the tree, and stayed there all night…"

When Tony paused, the room was so silent that McGee could hear his own heart beating and a clock ticking softly in the next room.

"No one came to get me down that time."

Several minutes ticked by before McGee could think of what he should say. "I'm sorry man. That must've been really tough."

Tony seemed to come out of a sort of trance.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I guess. I think it was probably harder on my father. He started drinking more after that. A lot more. And he went from being distant to pretty much ignoring me completely. He'd be gone for days or even weeks at a time. The three B's: business trips, bars, and bimbos." He scoffed bitterly. "When he was actually at home, he barely acknowledged me. And I know he blamed me for the accident. I mean, he never actually said it was my fault, but sometimes actions speak louder than words."

"How could it have been your fault?" McGee asked, indignant on Tony's part. "You were only a kid."

Tony shrugged. "Because I asked her to come."

At the calm, matter-of-fact way that Tony stated this, McGee closed his eyes. How could a father let his child think such a thing?

"Tony, it was not your fault."

"Oh, I know that," he quickly assured McGee.

A little too quickly.

McGee locked eyes with him. "Do you really?"

Tony looked away and sighed. "Well, logically, rationally, I know that it couldn't have been my fault. But it doesn't change how I feel, and it doesn't change the fact that people who are close to me always seem to end up getting hurt or killed. I mean, besides my mother, Kate was shot right in front of me and Paula was blown up. Let's not even get into the whole Jeanne debacle or the blown protection detail with Jenny. And, I was the reason Ziva stayed in Israel and ended up captured and tortured in Somalia… It's like I'm cursed or something."

"Tony, you're not cursed."

Tony wasn't really listening. "I can't believe I let this happen." His eyes flashed angrily. "Well, I'll be damned if I let Ali get hurt because of me."

"She won't. We'll find her." McGee put conviction into his voice.

Tony sighed. "And, you know, this whole thing is so crazy. I mean, I just met her really, and I already feel so… protective, I guess. Is that what having a little sister is supposed to feel like?"

McGee considered this, thinking of his relationship with his own sister. "Well, yeah, I guess it kind of is. I know that no matter how grown-up Sarah gets, I'll still always be looking out for her. That's just what you do when you're a big brother."

Tony looked thoughtful. "Tim, you know I was just kidding yesterday, right?"

McGee let out a short laugh. "I don't doubt it, but what do you mean?"

"You know, when I headslapped you for looking at Ali. I know you like her, Tim. And I know that I don't know her any better than you do right now, but she _is_ my sister. So… I just wanted to let you know that, well, that it's ok with me."

Tim looked at him in surprise. He'd been expecting more opposition from Tony on his feelings for Ali.

"I mean it. You're a good guy, Tim, and you're my friend. And I think you'd be good for each other."

A look of understanding passed between the two men.

"Just as long as… as long as…" the choked words stuck in Tony's throat and he couldn't finish.

"She'll be all right Tony." Tim assured him. "If she's anything at all like you she'll be fine."

Tim barely heard the mumble as Tony turned his head away and fell into an uneasy sleep. "I hope you're right."


	15. Warranted Questions

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe/ slight language

**Blah, blah, blah. Disclaimer stuff. Blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas and turns of phrase...

**Chapter 15**

**Warranted Questions****

* * *

**

Gibbs' voice could be heard through the entire squad room as he shouted into his cell phone, chewing out some hapless individual that had evidently gotten on the wrong side of his ire.

"—so I don't give a flying horse's ass if you had to wake up _fifty_ judges and I certainly don't care that I woke you up. You get me that warrant no later than half an hour or it's your job Agent Perry!" Gibbs stabbed the button forcefully to end the call. "Damn legal department," he growled, before stalking off.

Abby giggled from where she stood beside Ziva. "Aw, I love it when Gibbs gets all Papa Bear on us."

Ziva wasn't paying attention. She stared fixedly at Tony's desk, a slight frown on her face.

"Um, Ziva?" Abby waved her hand in front of Ziva's face. "Ziva?"

She abruptly started. "What? Did you say something Abby?"

"Don't tell me you missed that whole thing?"

"Missed… what?"

Abby shook her head, incredulous. "You are _so_ out of it. Are you ok?"

"I am fine Abby. I was just-" Ziva sighed.

"Thinking about Tony?" Abby finished, knowingly.

Ziva didn't answer, giving only a noncommittal tilt of her head as she lifted unsettled brown eyes to meet Abby's.

"Don't worry, Ziva. He'll be fine." Abby reassured her. "Timmy's with him tonight. And Gibbs is gonna find whoever is after him, you'll see."

"I know." She sighed again. "It is just that… I was coming over tonight to make up with him and-"

"You were going to 'make up' with Tony?" Abby grinned impishly as she raised her eyebrows.

"_Elohim, ten li koach_." Ziva muttered under her breath as she rolled her eyes heavenward. "You know that is not what I meant, Abby. He tried to apologize this afternoon and I would not accept it. I threw it in his face. And now I have made things worse by accusing his sister again."

Abby studied her friend's face. "Well, do you really think that Ali is to blame?"

Ziva shrugged. "I do not even know anymore. I did, and then I did not. She acted suspiciously, and then her behavior was explained. But now that we have even more reason to suspect her Tony still refuses to consider that she could be involved." She shook her head, frustrated. "He can be so careless!"

Abby nodded her agreement. "Tony doesn't always have the greatest sense of self-preservation in the world. And I know that he can be a pain when he wants to and sometimes he says things without thinking first. But underneath it all he's got a heart of gold, and that's just who he is. He's our Tony and we love him."

Ziva smiled. Abby certainly managed to see the world in simple terms.

"Of course."

Abby took on a serious look and tone of voice as she began to lecture. "But you should have accepted his apology. You know that Tony would never hurt you on purpose. And I'm sure he still feels terrible about what he said, especially if he thinks that you haven't forgiven him."

"I know he did not mean it. And I am not sure why I…" Ziva trailed off, looking a little sad. "We were just getting back to normal, back to how we were before. Before Rivkin, and Somalia. And now I am sure that I have just managed to drive us further apart."

Abby softened at seeing Ziva's regret. "Well, I happen to know that Tony doesn't like it when you two are fighting either. And I'm sure he wants to make up just as much as you do. He's not going to hold anything against you, Ziva. Tony doesn't ever hold grudges for long. You just need to talk to him. Explain your side of things. It'll be ok."

Ziva was about to respond when a surly voice broke in.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for Agent Gibbs."

The two women turned to see who had interrupted them. He was scowling, and his clothes looked rumpled and untidy.

Ziva addressed the obviously bad-tempered and probably sleep-deprived man. "I would be happy to take a message for Agent Gibbs, Mr…?"

"It's _Agent_. Perry," he ground out, obviously annoyed. "Your boss called for this warrant ASAP—he even threatened my job—and so I took time out to bring it and now he isn't even here."

"He should be back soon," Ziva replied mildly, taking the papers that he handed her.

Agent Perry gave a humorless snort. "Lot of help that is. So in other words, he didn't really need to disturb my sleep, he just did it because he can. I mean, just because he has the highest closing rate in this office does he think that entitles him to some kind of special privileges? I don't know who Gibbs thinks he is, but I'll have you know that-"

As the disgruntled agent continued on with his laundry list of complaints, Ziva and Abby held back grins at the sight of Gibbs walking silently up behind him.

"-and I don't even know what your boss thinks he's going to be able to do with a warrant at this time of morning. The place doesn't even open for hours," he grouched.

Gibbs hissed directly into the agent's ear. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. I'm sure I can… _persuade_ them to open a little early."

Agent Perry whirled around, paling when he realized that Gibbs had likely heard everything he had said.

Gibbs smiled a dangerous, wolfish smile, showing all his teeth.

"Uh… um… yeah. That is- I'm, I'm sure you could," Agent Perry stammered hastily. He took several large steps backward before turning and virtually fleeing for the exit.

Both Ziva and Abby stifled their laughter at this as Gibbs turned his gaze on them.

"Ziva, with me," he commanded as he strode for the elevator.

Ziva exchanged another chuckle with Abby before hurrying to join him, making sure she brought along the warrant. She had no doubt that Gibbs would indeed convince the Stargrounds manager to open early.

* * *

"Tony! What are you doing?"

Said agent paused, his hand on the door knob, before turning to face McGee with a winning, if guilty, smile. "Er… I was going to go to work?"

McGee stared him down. He had left a seemingly sleeping Tony scant minutes earlier in order to relieve himself, and had returned to find a very awake Tony attempting to walk out the front door.

Tony chuckled, a little uneasily. "Wow McGee, you're getting pretty good at that staring thing. Careful though. I'm pretty sure Gibbs holds the trademark rights. You don't want him to sue you."

McGee scoffed. "No, but I don't want him to murder me either. And I'm pretty sure that's what would happen if I let you go off by yourself when you're supposed to be under protective custody."

Tony considered this. "Well, I mean, I was hoping to just slip out and avoid the awkwardness of all this, at least for a while, what with me spilling my guts all over the place last night, but I guess that's probably too much to ask for, and anyway-"

McGee interrupted his babblings. "Tony, how were you even planning on getting to work?"

"Well, I _was_ gonna call a taxi, but I guess I can allow you to be my McChauffeur." Tony grinned.

McGee rolled his eyes.

Tony suddenly became serious. "Look Tim, I'm going. I have to. Now you can take me, or not. Your choice. But if you plan on 'keeping an eye on me,'" he made air quotes, "I suggest the former."

McGee sighed. He reached over to a side table and grabbed his keys. "Fine. Let's go."

* * *

When they arrived at NCIS, McGee went off to find Gibbs after giving Tony clear instructions to stay in the bullpen.

"I'm serious Tony. If I lose track of you, it's not a matter of whether I'll be dead, it's a matter of who'll kill me first. Gibbs or Abby."

Tony snorted. "Yeah, well, my bet's on Abby. Gibbs is sneaky, but you know he doesn't move quite as fast as he used to."

McGee bit back a grin as Tony looked around nervously after this statement, as if expecting Gibbs to materialize.

"Tony-"

"Yeah, yeah. Staying put." Tony sat in his desk chair and pulled out his cell phone as McGee left the room.

This was where Ziva found him when she walked in a few minutes later.

"Tony? What are you doing here?" she asked.

He barely glanced up at her. "Oh, I'm just using the wifi."

Ziva screwed up her face in puzzlement. "What?"

"Well, you know what they say. If you ask a silly question…" Tony shrugged.

Ziva shook her head slowly. "No, I do not know what they say."

"It's- they-" Tony let out an exasperated huff. "You know, the real question should be why everyone seems so surprised that I would be here. This _is_ where I work, after all."

"Tony, we are just-" Ziva sighed. "_I _am just… concerned about you."

Tony raised his eyebrows at this admission. "Well, don't be. I can take care of myself just fine."

Ziva bit back her inclination to snark that, yes; he had managed it quite well last night. She had already helped to further this rift between them and now she had to help mend it.

She walked over and sat on the edge of his desk; he looked up from his game of Tetris but said nothing.

"Tony," she began slowly, then stopped, unsure of her next words.

"Ziva," he replied, in a detached, polite sort of way. His expression was guarded.

"Tony, I am sorry if I upset you about Ali. And that I was so cold to you yesterday." She laid a hand on his arm.

Tony looked down at her hand then back up at her face and sighed, his defenses visibly dropping. "No, Ziva. I'm the one who's sorry. I had no right to bring up your brother like that. I don't know what I was thinking. Actually, I'm pretty sure I _wasn't_ thinking."

"Well, you were not completely wrong," she admitted. "I had been drawing comparisons. And I know I overreacted to what you said. I am not sure why I flew away from the handle like that."

Tony grinned. "It's 'off,' Ziva. 'Flew _off_ the handle.'"

"Ah." Ziva smiled back at him, glad to see the familiar sparkle in his eyes as he corrected her.

"Look, Ziva, I know you have some trust issues. And I get it, trust me." He grimaced. "Sorry. Poor choice of words there. But really, I get where you're coming from. I mean, c'mon, I've got more baggage than a Samsonite outlet."

Ziva chuckled.

"But Ziva," he began earnestly, looking her straight in the eye, "I just know that you're wrong about Ali."

Ziva sighed. "Tony, if I am wrong, then I am wrong, and I will be glad of it for your sake. But if there is a chance that I could be right, I cannot just stand idly by."

"No, I guess you can't. And I wouldn't expect anything less from a Mossad hunting dog anyway." Tony smiled as he placed his hand over hers. "No, scratch that. You're _our_ hunting dog now."

Ziva growled slightly and they both laughed, the tension between them evaporating.

"And anyway, that's what I love about you Ziva. You always-"

_Ding._

The elevator announced its arrival on their floor half a second before an animated Abby bounded through the middle of the bullpen, effectively ending that conversation.

"Ziva! Guess what I found! I- Tony!" As Abby spotted him she practically sprang into his lap before bestowing one of her massive hugs.

Tony screwed up his face at the jolt but then grinned. "Hey Abbs."

Abby was too hyper to stay sitting in one place for long and she immediately got up, excitedly hopping from one foot to the other.

"You guys! Tony! Ziva! I know who we're looking for!"

"You do?" Tony asked.

"Who?" Ziva asked.

"Well, not who, more like- ok well, sort of like who, but not. What I mean is, not _exactly_ who. Well, ok, so I don't really _know_ who he is. At least, I don't know his name. Not yet. But I do have a picture of his face, clear as day."

Abby looked triumphant. Tony looked confused.

"How did you get that?" he asked.

"Oh, from the security footage of that coffee place you like. Gibbs got it as soon as Agent Perry brought him the warrant." Abby gave a mischievous grin. "Poor Agent Perry. If he wasn't terrified of Gibbs already, he certainly is now."

Tony laughed. "Gibbs put Larry Perry in his place? I'd have liked to see that."

"His first name is _Larry_?" Ziva asked in disbelief. "What parents would name their child Larry Perry?"

"Very cruel ones. But no, it's actually Lawrence." Tony admitted.

"But it is really funny when you call him Larry," Abby put in.

"I mean, just say it. Larry Perry. _La-rry Pe-rry_," Tony sing-songed.

Ziva smirked, shaking her head. "So Abby, the picture?"

"Oh, right." She clicked a remote and a picture of a dark-haired man, frozen, as he half bent over next to a car, popped up on one side of the plasma screen. The other side was rapidly shifting through photos, comparing them to several points marked on the man's face. "I'm running facial recognition as we speak."

Tony was staring intently at the screen, his eyes narrowed. "No need for that Abbs. I know who he is."

* * *

"Elohim natan otti koach." As far as I could find (and believe me I scoured the internet for over an hour for translation, transliteration, and romanization), this is how to say "God give me strength" in Hebrew. If this is wrong and anyone knows the right way, feel free to correct me and I will change it.

EDIT: Now changed to "Elohim, ten li koach." Thanks to LE7 for correcting my Hebrew grammar!


	16. Means To An End

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe/slight language

**Blah, blah, blah. Disclaimer stuff. Blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas and turns of phrase... Everything in the NCIS universe belongs to Donald P. Bellisario.

*Thanks to Renthead07 for beta work!*

**Chapter 16**

**Means To An End**

* * *

McGee had returned with Gibbs and the team sat in the bullpen awaiting Tony's explanation. Meanwhile, the facial recognition software had been left running in the background. It came to a stop and now blinked its match across the plasma screen.

Tony gave a weary sigh and gestured at the screen. "Vincent Giordani, aka 'Vinnie the Punisher'. Ten years ago he was a high-level enforcer for Mike Macaluso. He's your typical thug: big, dumb, and mean. He's got an itchy trigger finger, but he prefers his fists. He was my in."

"I thought all of Macaluso's guys got taken down about the same time he did. How'd he get out?" McGee asked.

"Simple. He was never in. Vinnie disappeared soon after Macaluso was arrested. Presumed dead."

"Presumed?" Ziva puzzled, knitting her brow. "Did they have any proof?"

"Well, the FBI had been after him with a deal to witness, and then when he went missing most people just figured he took a long walk off a short pier wearing cement shoes. Same as what happens to most stool pigeons." Tony shrugged.

"Well, he's obviously alive and well. Any idea why he would be after you?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't know Boss. Why is anyone after me? Take a shot in the dark. You'll probably hit something accurate." Tony grinned.

Gibbs didn't. "Tony."

Tony sighed, his put-on joviality fading. "Well, infiltrating the mafia is all kinds of risky. Getting in is dangerous enough, but then you turn around and put them away, betray them, in a sense, after they've taken you in like _famiglia_. They don't generally take it too well."

"But ten years seems like a long time to go, holding a grudge and not acting on it," Ziva put in.

"Yeah." Tony looked thoughtful. "I wonder what old Vinnie's been up to. Huh. Maybe the FBI got to him after all."

"Well, why wouldn't he be in your old case files Tony?" McGee asked.

"I don't know." Tony shrugged. "I would guess some kind of mix-up. Or he could've been legally declared dead. Or-"

"Or maybe because," came a voice from behind them, "his files were sealed."

The team turned to see FBI Agent Tobias Fornell emerge out of the elevator, closely followed by Agent Ron Sacks, Tony's sometime nemesis.

"Toby, Ronnie, long time no see." Tony breezed with forced cheeriness. "And what brings the big bad Bureau of Investigation all the way down to little old NCIS? Or do I already know?"

Fornell didn't acknowledge him, instead turning to Gibbs. "I think we need to talk Jethro."

"Conference room." Gibbs stated curtly before striding for the elevator, Fornell right behind him.

Agent Sacks, looking extremely annoyed to be left standing there with no explanation, muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously as though he were insinuating that both of the departing agents' respective parents had not been married at the time of their births.

A slow, devious grin spread across Tony's face. "So, Agent Slacks," he began.

"For the last time it's Sacks!" Sacks spit out. "Not Slacks!"

Tony waved his hand in dismissal. "Whatever, Slacks. Anyway, since you brought it up, I assume you've seen the new Quentin Tarantino film? No? What are you more into, _Harry Potter_? I got to admit though; the latest one was pretty good. Lots of sequels and continuations this year: _Twilight_, _Ice Age_, _Transformers_, _Night at the Museum_, even _The DaVinci C__ode_, although _Angels and Demons_ was more of a prequel, really—"

Sacks folded his arms and let out an exasperated huff as Tony rambled on loudly, clearly trying—and succeeding—at getting on the FBI agent's nerves.

"—and I thought that _Star Trek_ was pretty good, although I have to admit I was a little thrown at first by the alternate universe thing. Definitely wasn't expecting that—"

* * *

The moment the doors to the elevator closed, Gibbs pulled the emergency switch and then proceeded to glower at Fornell as the car powered down and came to a stop.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Well?" Fornell replied, affecting innocence.

"Dammit, Fornell! _You_ came to _me_. Now, if you know something about the guy who's trying to kill DiNozzo, then you'd better—"

"Whoa, slow down Jethro. I'm only here because your people ran a search on Giordani and the Bureau wants to know why. He tried to kill DiNutso?" Fornell looked perplexed and, to his credit, slightly concerned.

"No, Tobias. I just said it to hear myself talk!" Gibbs growled.

Fornell raised his eyebrows with a half grin. "And people say you have no sense of humor."

Gibbs just glared. "Can it Tobias. We now believe he's kidnapped a civilian. Tony's half-sister."

Fornell blinked in astonishment at this revelation for a second before Gibbs grew impatient and spoke up again.

"What's the FBI's interest in him?"

"He's been in the Witness Protection Program for the past 10 years. Left the program less than a month ago."

"Well what the _hell _is he doing going after my agent?" Gibbs barked.

"I don't know."

Gibbs fixed him with an icy stare.

"Don't look at me like that, Jethro," Fornell protested. "I honestly haven't got a clue. I had nothing to do with the Macaluso case back then. I heard about it, sure; everyone in the Bureau did. It was big. And I knew that DiNutso was involved. But I can't think of why Vincent Giordani would be after him, especially after all this time. Giordani was one of Macaluso's top guys, until apparently he rolled over on him and got some kind of deal."

"Yeah, I'll say some kinda deal. No jail time and Witness Protection. How did he score that one?" Gibbs challenged angrily.

"Jethro, I can't tell you the details of the case." Fornell began.

"Dammit, Tobias!" Gibbs interrupted. "Are you gonna make me say please?"

"I can't tell you," Fornell continued tolerantly, "because I don't know myself. Like I said before, it's sealed. The whole Macaluso case."

"The whole case? Why?" Gibbs sighed in frustration. "Never mind. Doesn't matter right now. Where is he?"

"Well, when a witness decides to leave the program, we can't do anything about it, but—"

"Don't give me any of that bull Tobias. I know you. You would've kept tabs on him."

"—_but_ I had my suspicions about Giordani keeping his nose clean for this long, so I do have his last known address." Fornell grinned and pulled out a file. "Always be prepared."

Gibbs made as if to grab the file. "Didn't know you were such a Boy Scout, Fornell. Hand it over."

Fornell held it slightly out of reach. "The house is out in Frederick. Giordani would have to have crossed state lines. _And _his only involvement with the Navy is DiNozzo, which isn't the most solid link. So technically…"

Gibbs growled impatiently, holding out his hand. "Do I look like I care about the credit, Tobias? I just want this guy taken down! Joint jurisdiction."

Fornell smiled as he relinquished the vital information. "You read my mind."

* * *

Ziva, McGee, and Abby watched the scene in front of them in amusement. Tony had managed to pull an initially reluctant Agent Sacks into a debate about the finer points of time travel in film.

"-yeah, but he changed the time stream, and, in fact, created an alternate universe, or at least an alternate timeline. I mean, when he gets back to 1985, he has changed things quite a bit." Tony pointed out.

"But not anything vital," Sacks argued. "And if you go by the Novikov self-consistency principle, the laws of nature won't allow the time traveler to do anything that could later result in their time travel not occurring. I still maintain that Marty _couldn't_ have kept his parents apart."

"All right, I get that, but what you're saying would actually be more of a causality loop, which it's not, because we know he wasn't actually in the past the first time around, at least not in the original timeline. Although, had the grandfather paradox come into play, it might've-" Tony broke off when he saw Gibbs and Fornell exit the elevator.

"Boss?" he inquired anxiously.

"Ziva, McGee, gear up," Gibbs announced.

At the same time Fornell spoke up. "Let's go, Sacks."

Tony stood as his teammates began gathering their gear.

"What about me, Boss?" he questioned. The sinking feeling that he wasn't going to be allowed to come along was confirmed by Gibbs' next words.

"Did I _say_ you, DiNozzo? You shouldn't even be here." Gibbs' concern for his senior field agent came through in the way it usually did, loud and gruff. "And if you ever try a stunt like this morning again, McGee has my official permission to handcuff you."

Tony shot a look at McGee, who raised his hands defensively in a universal 'I-have-no-idea-how-he-knows-about-that-because-I-certainly-didn't-tell-him' gesture.

Tony turned back to Gibbs, the dismay clearly written on his face. "But Boss," he protested, "I have to come. I—"

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked. He sighed, then began in a slightly softer tone. "Tony, you're still concussed, you look like hell, and above all you're just too damn close to this."

Tony opened his mouth to argue again, but Gibbs cut him off.

"You're _not_ coming. That's an order, DiNozzo. Call me if Abby finds anything else."

Tony slumped in his chair and fumed silently as the rest of the MCRT plus FBI walked out. Sacks shot him a somewhat arrogant smirk, while Ziva and McGee sported rather sympathetic looks.

He waited until the team had left before picking up his Mighty Mouse stapler and chucking it halfway across the squad room where it hit the wall with a thump. Not satisfied, he shoved a stack of papers off of his desk and brought his fists down hard, barely noticing the pang in his wrist.

A quiet gasp came from behind him and he turned.

Abby. He had forgotten she was still there. She looked shocked for a brief second at his uncharacteristic show of temper before immediately wrapping him in her arms.

He exhaled, his anger spent, leaving only worry and fear in its place. "Dammit!" he whispered, running slightly shaking hands through his hair.

"It's ok, Tony," Abby soothed, still holding him tightly. "Shh, it's gonna be ok."

* * *

A soft beep interrupted the relative silence as the car sped along the long gravel road. Ziva glanced over at McGee when, ten seconds later, another beep sounded.

"What the hell is that?" Gibbs asked crossly.

"Er, that's the sound my PDA makes when it goes in or out of a service area." McGee answered. "I guess the coverage in this area is kind of spotty."

As if in reaction to his words, the PDA beeped again.

"Well, shut it off!" Gibbs replied, pushing his foot further down on the accelerator as if the team needed a reminder of his foul mood.

"Got it, Boss." McGee hurried to obey.

* * *

Tony anxiously paced the length of the forensic lab while Abby studied him around her computer with concerned eyes.

"What could be taking so long?" he burst out suddenly.

"Tony, they've only been gone half an hour," Abby told him patiently. "Even with Gibbs driving they probably wouldn't be there yet."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, you're right."

"Maybe if Ziva was driving," Abby teased, trying to get a smile out of him.

It didn't work.

Abby bit her lip. "Tony," she began, before being cut off by a loud insistent beep from the machine in front of her. She turned her attention to the screen and quickly read what was there, then jumped into the air with a whoop of discovery.

Tony was at her side in a flash. "What is it Abbs? What'd you find?"

She grinned at him, elated. "Well, you remember those fibers from the SUV?"

"Sure."

"And remember I figured out that they could have come from any of almost a dozen abandoned factories in the area."

"Uh-huh."

"And then I was going to try to narrow them down by finding which factories used that specific chemical compound."

"Right, right." Tony nodded, growing impatient.

"Well, it turns out that didn't actually help much. The compound on the fibers happens to be the most common cogener of PCB that was manufactured in the eastern US since 1920. Eight of the eleven factories in question used it. Of the other three, two used an almost identical compound from a different manufacturer, and the last used a compound from a European manufacturer. Of course back then we didn't use as many foreign imports as we do now, so that isn't really surprising, but-"

Tony had to resist the unfamiliar urge to headslap Abby at this drawn-out explanation.

"Abby." He made his voice very calm and authoritative. "What. Is. The. Point?"

"Wow, look at you, getting all Gibbs on me." Abby looked impressed.

He groaned. "Abby!"

"Right, sorry. The _point_ is that when I looked at these factories before, we had no idea who we were looking for. Now we do. So I searched for Vincent Giordani's name in relation to any of those factories, and I found a connection. His family used to own one before they were shut down. How much do you wanna bet that that's where he's hiding?"

She pointed at the address on the screen, and then gave a small squeak of surprise when Tony suddenly seized her in a bear hug of an intensity to rival her own, lifting her slightly off her feet.

"I love you, Abbs." He punctuated this with a kiss on her forehead before he set her down and rushed out of the lab, his phone already out and calling speed-dial 1.

Abby smiled after him. "You'd better!"


	17. Nothing Could Change Just How This Goes

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe/slight language

**Blah, blah, blah. Disclaimer stuff. Blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas and turns of phrase... Everything in the NCIS universe belongs to Donald P. Bellisario. I bow to his genius.

**Chapter 17**

**Nothing Could Change Just How This Goes**

* * *

Tony was a car guy. He handled cars well and he was an excellent driver. And for all of his unfortunate vehicle incidents (that most assuredly the majority of which were not his fault), he wasn't ordinarily the type to be accused of driving like a maniac. Not like, say, Gibbs or Ziva.

But today was not an ordinary day. Today Tony was channeling his inner East European cab driver in his haste to get to the abandoned factory down by the docks.

He pulled up across the street from a likely looking candidate, paint peeling and roof caving in, with several windows that appeared to have been smashed by vandals. Checking the address on the front of the building against the address he had scribbled on the back of his hand in lieu of paper, just in case he should forget it, he determined that he had arrived at the correct place.

The phone still attached to his ear, as it had been since he'd left Abby, Tony drove around the dilapidated factory and saw a dark jeep parked in back. Someone was definitely in there.

He parked next to the jeep and pressed speed-dial 1 once more, swearing under his breath when he got yet another recording. The phone gave a sudden pathetic beep, interrupting the call, and began to shut down.

Of all times for the battery to die.

When was the last time he had charged the stupid thing? Monday, it would have to be. And today was Thursday. All in all, he was lucky it had lasted this long.

Lucky. He snorted. Some kind of luck. At least he had gotten his message through before it died. Hopefully.

Disgusted, he tossed the phone carelessly over on the passenger seat before getting out of the car. The slam of the door seemed deafening and he winced as it echoed through the nearly vacant lot. So much for the element of surprise. Assuming it was even on his side to begin with.

Tony stood there a moment, running a hand through his hair, gathering his thoughts.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

He knew it was. And yet, he had to do it. He'd never forgive himself if—

_Don't think that way DiNozzo. _His internal Gibbs voice told him.

_Right Boss. Not thinking that way__._

But he couldn't help it.

_What would Gibbs do if he were here right now?_

Well, one thing, for sure. He reached his good hand back and headslapped himself.

It calmed him, centered him, even though he knew, had Gibbs actually been there, he would have been headslapping him for entirely different reasons.

Well, nothing for it now. He headed for the faded old building, his hand resting reassuringly on the butt of his Sig, and gave a gusty sigh of resignation.

"Gibbs is gonna kill me."

* * *

"I'm gonna kill him," Gibbs growled as he sped down the road, listening for the third time to a recorded message saying that Tony's phone was switched off or out of its service area. "Never be unreachable. DiNozzo knows that."

In the back, Ziva and McGee shared a commiserating glance, as if imagining the less than pleasant prospect of pissing off their boss while he was in this less than pleasant mood.

Gibbs closed the phone with a snap, then suddenly opened it again and dialed Abby.

She answered on the first ring in her usual chipper tone. "_You've reached the lab of Abigail Scuito, forensic expert extraordinaire. How may I direct your call?"_

"Abbs. We were at Giordani's house. Found nothing. No one's been living there for a while. Have you got anything else for me?"

"_You mean, other than the factory address?"_

Gibbs paused. "Factory?"

"_Well, Tony__ called you, didn't he? As soon as I figured out where those fibers __came__ from he got on his phone and rushed out of here. I just assumed he __was__ call__ing__ you."_

Gibbs looked at the screen of his phone. 27 missed calls. He sighed. Broke his own rule. "Yeah Abbs, he tried. I guess we were out of range. Where's Tony now?"

"_I'm not sure. I haven't seen him since he rushed out of here."_

"Well, when you see him, tell him to—"

McGee spoke up from the back seat. "Uh, Boss?"

Gibbs half turned in his seat, a rather dangerous thing to do when driving, particularly at his current speed, to shoot McGee an icy glare for interrupting him. "What?" he barked.

McGee gulped slightly. "Er, well, I just got a text from Tony. I guess I didn't get it earlier when we were out of range."

Ziva peered over his shoulder interestedly.

Gibbs sighed and turned back to face the road. "Well, what's it say McGee?"

McGee listed the address and Gibbs read it back to Abby.

"Is that the factory Abbs?"

"_Yup. That's the one."_

"Alright Abbs, we're on our way back. We'll-"

"Boss," McGee interrupted again. "Boss, after that it says 'meet you there.'"

What came out of the ex-Marine's mouth next was virtually unrecognizable as proper English—and in truth it's quite possible that only part of the string of oaths he let loose was even in a language known to man. His passengers clung desperately to anything within reach as Gibbs all at once slammed the phone shut, flipped a sharp U-turn, gunned the engine, and zoomed in the direction of the docks with accelerator floored and tires squealing riotously, leaving only skid marks on the pavement and the faint reek of burnt rubber in their wake.

* * *

"Gibbs? Hello? Gibbs?"

Dead air was the forensic tech's only answer and she ended the call, frowning.

Her silver fox had just hung up on her after a stream of expletives that would make a sailor blush, leaving Abby confused and slightly put out, as she hadn't heard McGee's last statement.

She picked up the phone again and dialed Tony's number in order to tell him she'd talked to Gibbs, but kept getting the same recording that, unbeknownst to her, Gibbs had been annoyed at reaching.

"Huh. That's hinky," she mused aloud. "Tony never turns off his phone, and there's nowhere in the building that's out of cell range."

A scary notion occurred to her and she realized that Gibbs must've had the same thought.

But Tony wouldn't. Would he?

He would if he couldn't get hold of Gibbs.

Well, either way, she could check it out. Even if Tony's phone was off, dead, or out of its service area, as long as the GPS chip wasn't destroyed it would still be transmitting. Abby immediately went to her computer to track it… and found that it was exactly where she had hoped it wouldn't be. At the docks. Right where the factory was.

Abby was suddenly struck with an awful, overwhelming fear.

"Oh Gibbs. Hurry."

* * *

Tony pulled the door toward him; it was deceptively heavy. Creaking slowly open, it allowed a small sliver of daylight into the dank, dim room ahead. As he proceeded warily in, his Sig ready out in front of him, the door abruptly swung shut with an ominous clang, plunging the room into relative darkness. He stopped and blinked, his eyes adjusting to the sudden gloom.

He heard nothing but the steady _drip_, _drip_ of a leaky pipe. Until someone spoke.

"Well, if it isn't Antonio DeVecchi. Or I guess I should say, Detective Anthony DiNozzo. Fancy meeting you here."

Tony immediately swung his gun to point at the familiar voice, and what he saw was just what he had been expecting.

Being right didn't make it any easier though.

Vincent Giordani stood about ten meters away by the far wall holding Tony's own 22 against the side of Ali's head as she sat, bound to a chair and gagged, looking a little the worse for wear.

"Federal Agent. Drop your weapon!" Tony shouted, his confident voice belying any apprehension he felt.

"Oh, that's right. It's _Agent_ DiNozzo. I forgot; you're a fed now. Huh. Some federal agency though. Navy cops," Giordani snickered disdainfully. "I never even heard of NCSI before."

Tony didn't bother to tell him he had the wrong acronym. "Well, pretty soon you'll be wishing you could still say that. Drop. Your. Weapon," he ordered again, his Sig firmly trained on the larger man's heart.

Giordani appeared to consider it for a moment. "Hmmm. No, I don't think I will. What are you gonna do? Shoot me? You can go ahead and try… but will you be able to get _me_ before I get _her_? No, Agent _DiNozzo_," he spit the name as though it were poison. "_You_ drop _your_ weapon. Now. Or I'll put a bullet in her brain."

Tony hesitated. He knew he should just shoot him. But what if he wasn't fast enough? What if he missed? What if… He cursed silently. Gibbs had been right. He _was_ too close to this.

"You know I'll do it." Giordani warned, pushing the gun harder into Ali's head.

"Alright. Alright." Tony held up his hands and then slowly and carefully placed his Sig on the ground. _Come on Gibbs. _"Just let her go. Your beef is with me, not her. She has nothing to do with this."

"Well, I don't know. I'd say anyone who has anything to do with you deserves whatever they get. Who is she anyway? Flavor of the week?" He yanked Ali's hair, pulling her head back, and leered down at her. "She _is_ pretty, I'll give you that."

Ali blinked back tears at the pain, but didn't let out a sound.

He struggled not to, but Tony visibly reacted to this abuse, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists to stop from hurling himself across the room and beating Giordani to death with his bare hands. He knew he would never make it that far.

Giordani noticed his reaction. "Somehow I get the feeling this chick's more important to you than that. She means something to you, doesn't she?"

"No." Tony lied. "Not really. I only just met her at work."

Giordani didn't look convinced. "Really. Then why are you here?"

"Kidnapping of an NCIS employee makes it our jurisdiction." He wasn't sure whether this was true, but it sounded good, nonetheless.

"Well, maybe it does. But you wouldn't do this for just anyone."

"I do this every day. It's my job."

"Every day you go off half-cocked, with no backup?" Giordani tsked. "I don't think so. Sloppy. Emotional. That's what this says to me. You're here for a much more personal reason."

Tony schooled his features and tried to look blank. "I just happened to be in the area already. The rest of my team is on their way. They'll be here any minute." He fervently hoped that he wasn't lying through his teeth, that McGee had gotten his text, that Gibbs had listened to any one of his several messages. "Give it up Vinnie."

Giordani released Ali's hair, keeping the gun to her head, and stared at Tony. "No. You're lying. Nobody's coming." He broke into a malicious grin. "You're a hard man to kill, you know that? I thought for sure that my little bomb had done the trick, but no, you show up again like nothing even happened. Like a cockroach."

Tony gave an easy smile that contradicted with both his on-guard demeanor and his inner tension. "What can I say? Takes more than a scum like you to kill me."

Giordani grinned again. "Those are pretty bold words. Or stupid ones. Maybe I need to remind you that I have a hostage. I could easily wring her skinny little neck." He reached a beefy arm around Ali's windpipe and Tony could see the fear in her eyes as her air was restricted.

Tony held up his hands submissively, attempting to pacify the man. "All right, all right. Let's just calm down. No need to do anything rash." Only when Giordani had released Ali did he think it safe to pose another question. "So why kidnap her anyway, huh? Why not me? Or why not just kill me when you had the chance? I thought that's what you were after, though I gotta say, I'm a little fuzzy on the reason."

Giordani gave a mirthless chuckle. "Well, you see, when I found out that that you weren't dead yet I started getting… annoyed. Then I thought about it, and I decided I was actually glad the bomb didn't kill you. You wouldn't have suffered enough. Besides, I enjoy a challenge, and I figured a little torture would be in order. I was waiting for you to be alone last night, but I'm sure you remember how impatient I can be, _Anthony_. So when your other friends left, I thought that she was staying, and I went for it. Of course I couldn't leave any witnesses, and one body more or less doesn't make too big of a difference. But then your friends came back right in the middle and screwed that up. So I decided I could use her. I thought she might be…" he licked his lips lasciviously, "fun. Besides, it's obvious that you care about her."

Tony shook his head. "I already told you that I barely know her."

Giordani raised his eyebrows. "Right. Whatever you say. You know," he began conversationally; "I _was_ planning on sending you something to let you know I had her. A lock of hair maybe? A finger? But here you are anyway, before I even had the chance. Maybe I'm losing my touch. I haven't done this for a while."

"That's right. You had a good thing going, Vinnie." Tony knew he had to keep him talking, stalling for Gibbs to show up. "Witness Protection. Why screw that up?"

"Somebody recognized me. And then, of course, I had to kill them. If Mike found out I wasn't dead… I would be." He scowled darkly.

"Macaluso? But you know he's in prison. Won't be eligible for parole for years."

"You think you took down Mike?" Giordani scoffed. "It doesn't matter; he still has connections and they're all still out there. Same _famiglia_, just a different head. You certainly did me no favors. And what I realized is, this whole thing comes down to you. It's your fault. And you're gonna pay."

Tony shrugged, defensively. "Hey, you're the one who turned witness on Macaluso. I had nothing to do with _that_."

Giordani snarled. "Yeah, well, once the FBI started sniffing around, dropping my name, it wouldn't matter whether I turned witness or not, I was gonna disappear either way. If Mike thought I might roll over on him he wouldn't take no chances."

"Any." Tony corrected automatically.

"What?"

"He wouldn't take _any _chances, Vinnie. Otherwise it's a double negative."

Giordani stared at him and began laughing. It was a chilling sound. "You always did have a smart mouth, Antonio. This could almost be like old times."

"Yeah," Tony agreed lightly, beginning to doubt the man's mental stability. "Sure Vinnie."

His eyes wandered over to his Sig where it lay on the ground to his left. His hands itched for it and he shifted his weight ever so slightly, addressing Giordani again to distract from his movement.

"If you think Mike would be so quick to believe that you had betrayed him, why work for him? Why have any loyalty toward him in the first place?"

Giordani shook his head. "You don't understand anything about loyalty, do you Antonio? After this factory shut down, my family was left with nothing. I had nothing—I _was_ nothing until Mike introduced me to the _famiglia_. Then I had a purpose."

"Yeah. As a murdering thug," Tony replied sarcastically.

Giordani laughed again. "You know, I liked you Antonio. Your sense of humor. It was part of the reason I brought you into the family. But then you betrayed us."

Tony took a subtle half step nearer to his weapon.

Not subtle enough. Giordani immediately pointed the 22 at him.

"Don't even think about it. One move toward that gun and you're dead," he promised. "And then who will save poor little baby sister?"

Tony had stopped dead in his tracks, his hands up, when he realized what the man had said. The shock must've shown on his face.

"Oh that's right." Giordani's eyes glinted. "I should've mentioned that I got _Ali_ here to tell me all about your little reunion. Frankly, I was touched. It was just like one of those Hallmark movies." He laughed scornfully.

Ali's eyes apologized out of her bruised face and a tear escaped, trickling slowly down one cheek.

Tony spoke very calmly. "Ok, all right. Fine. Just let her go. She has nothing to do with this. I'm the one you want to kill."

"You wound me Antonio. What makes you think I'd want to kill you?" Giordani protested mockingly.

"Is that a rhetorical question, Vinnie? Well, I'd say the death threats were my first clue. And then the bomb was sort of a dead giveaway." _Absolutely__ no__ pun intended,_ Tony added in his mind.

Giordani snickered as he pointed the gun back at Ali. "Ok, you got me. I guess I _do_ want to kill you. But I'm not going to. Not yet anyway. First you're going to watch me have a little fun with your sister. It's got sort of a, what do ya call it, poetic justice to it, don't you think? You destroy my _famiglia_, I destroy yours. And by the time I'm through," his voice became deadly, "you'll be begging me to kill you."

Without moving the gun an inch from where it pressed up against Ali's skull or taking his eyes off of Tony, he grabbed Ali's little finger and bent it back hard. Tony heard the sickening crack of bone and Ali's cry of pain, muffled into a whimper by the gag. More tears rolled down her face.

Nearly blinded by the scorching rage building up in him, Tony only realized that he was biting the inside of his cheek when he tasted blood.

"You dirty son of a—" he seethed, unable to get anything more out as he choked on blood and bile.

Giordani laughed. "You kiss your baby sister with that mouth?"

Tony swallowed hard. "Just let her go, Vinnie. I'll do anything you want." He was starting to get more desperate, doubting that Gibbs had gotten his message, or if he had, doubting that he would get there in time.

"Hmm…" Giordani shook his head. "No, I think you'll do what I want anyway. Are we having fun yet _Anthony_? No? Well, I know what would make it better for me. Hearing her scream next time. What do you think?"

As he spoke, still looking at Tony, he reached to pull off Ali's gag.

"It's a real pity you two won't get a chance to know each other any better. You know, I'm a reasonable guy. Maybe I'll even give you some time to have a little chat before I—"

Giordani let out a howl of pain and surprise. Ali had bitten his hand. Hard, judging by the volume of his yell. He turned and backhanded her across the face with such force that the chair to which she was bound was knocked on its side.

Taking advantage of those few seconds of distraction, Tony made his move. He launched himself to the side toward his Sig.

The other man caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and turned the 22 back onto Tony at the same moment that Tony reached his own gun and, still on the ground, turned, aimed, and fired once, twice, three times. Three rounds directly into his heart.

Giordani looked down, his mouth a round o of surprise, as blood blossomed on his shirt. Then he fell heavily to the ground and moved no more.

Tony was still crouched on the floor, breathless and panting, adrenaline coursing through his veins. After a shocked silence, Ali seemed to be screaming something, her mouth open and tears streaming freely from her eyes, but for some reason Tony couldn't quite make out what she was saying.

He began to stand, to go to her, but as he moved, the vague burning in his ribs that he'd felt since diving to the floor transformed into something more akin to a white hot poker being thrust into his side. He doubled over, biting back a cry, his hand automatically moving to the area as if to hold at bay the breathtaking agony. He pulled it away; warm, sticky, and red.

"Crap," he thought as the room drifted out of focus and the ground tilted up to meet him. "Gibbs is _so_ gonna kill me."


	18. To Be, Or Not To Be

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe/slight language

**Blah, blah, blah. Disclaimer stuff. Blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas and turns of phrase... Everything in the NCIS universe belongs to Donald P. Bellisario. I bow to his genius.

**Chapter 18**

**To Be, Or Not To Be**

* * *

Tony was.

He just… was.

He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here, or even where here _was_ for that matter, but for the moment he was perfectly content to be, to simply exist. It was quiet in here. Almost... inexplicably serene. But no matter that he didn't understand it; he could go with the flow with the best of them.

He drifted along past what he recognized as memories, meandering in and out of arbitrary thoughts and feelings that seemed almost tangible.

Exquisite lilting melodies picked out on a cherished baby grand, the delicate scent of violets, the whisper of silk; this was his mother as she was.

Ever the lively socialite, she seemed to be always flitting from one thing to another, like a butterfly. Even when she was at rest she was never still, perpetually singing, dancing, or laughing. She loved to make music in those happier times, and he loved to watch her.

She'd given him a little blue and green bicycle with a bell on the handle for his sixth birthday. It was his first time on a two-wheeler, but he insisted he could do it himself so she let go and he took off. Her breathless laughter mixed with his own childish chortles of glee as she chased after him, calling out for him to slow down.

_Tony! Tony, come back!_

He'd ended up crashing and needing 7 stitches, his first of many over a lifetime, as it turned out. Now, he recalled the pain almost affectionately.

It was disconnected, or else he was disassociated; it wasn't him somehow. And it wasn't anything close to what he sensed was waiting for him out there. Out there was definitely him.

_Tony!_

He felt as though something was calling him out there now, beckoning, tugging persistently, edging him closer to an invisible boundary. But he drew back. Beyond it was reality, and though he couldn't think of the why or how, he knew that reality equaled pain. He'd rather stay here, in the warmth and the dark, so peacefully apart from it all.

It was like being in a bubble.

Like _The Boy in the Plastic Bubble_ starring a young John Travolta, 'the king of cool'. Although, he found it hard to think of that title sans laughter anymore, ever since Abby had dragged him along to see _Hairspray_. It wasn't his most pleasant movie reference anyway, as it never failed to remind him of his time in isolation at Bethesda, but it did bring back some nicer memories of Kate.

His former partner had stayed with him in that hell of blue lights and useless IVs and his own unspoken terror. At the risk of becoming infected herself, she hadn't left him alone. He never got the chance to thank her for that.

More phantom recollections floated by. He and Paula dancing, twirling her around as she laughed happily, Jenny giving him advice and praise on many occasions, that candle-lit dinner with Jeanne that managed to be romantic despite taking place in a parking lot.

_Tony!_

That vague summoning again, pulling him toward the brink. Or perhaps he was already past the brink and was being pulled back. Either way, he resisted. He shied away from it, fearing that he would burst his delicate surroundings and be thrust back into painful actuality.

He just wanted to stay in here for a while, safe in his little piece of subconscious. He knew what loomed outside that bubble; the mental images came unbidden.

His beautiful, fragile mother with her car wrapped around a tree, crushed into so much scrap metal. They said she hadn't suffered, but was it any consolation, really? The closed casket funeral was proof that her death had been anything but peaceful.

_I promise, Tony._

Kate with a hole through her forehead and a teasing insult on her lips for eternity.

_I thought I'd die before I ever heard—_

The hurt in Jeanne's eyes that he knew he had caused, the complement of which he hadn't allowed himself to show, when he'd lied and sent her away forever.

_Was any of it real?_

The images came faster, flickering like an old movie projector.

Paula's last look of horror and then determination as she sacrificed herself and followed her team, Jenny gunned down and lying in her blood all alone in that isolated diner, Ziva, cold and unseeing, sinking deep beneath the waves off the coast of Africa, Ali…

No, wait. That wasn't right.

Ziva was alive. And so was Ali. At least, he thought so.

He had saved her, hadn't he?

He remembered shooting somebody.

_Tony, please!_

What was that sound? It was no longer an indistinct feeling that he was being called back. Someone _was_ calling for him.

He made up his mind, steeling himself. He had to go back. He had to try. No, not try. Either do, or do not.

Huh. Star Wars quotes. What would the Probie think? Oh, well. Yoda was a smart man…er… alien of unknown origin.

Do, then.

As he fought to return to consciousness he remembered the agony that awaited him and nearly retreated back into the darkness, but summoning up his courage, he forced himself through to awareness and opened his eyes.

He came to like breaking through ice; blinking and shivering and gasping for air.

The only sounds he could hear were his own breathing, harsh to his ears, and muted weeping, presumably belonging to Ali. The leaky pipe seemed to have thought better of its welcome.

No. There it was again.

Sprawled out face first on the coarse cement floor of the factory, Tony felt the chill seeping through his clothes and pressing up against his cheek roughly. He pushed himself up with one arm. The room swam before his eyes and he nearly passed out again from the excruciating pain.

Closing his eyes against the dizziness, he took a deep breath and counted to ten before opening them again with new resolve and sitting up.

It appeared that Ali had struggled to get out of her bonds, but she had only succeeded in manipulating the chair into an awkward angle. It was now laying sideways, her head away from him and her hair falling over her face in a curtain.

Biting back a groan, Tony stood, a bit shaky, and haltingly made his way over to her.

Each step was new torture, but he finally reached his goal. He touched Ali's arm and she jerked away, as far away as she could get while tied to the chair, at any rate.

"Ali, it's me."

"Tony?" she questioned in disbelief, trying to shake her hair out of her face and crane her neck upwards to see. "Oh Tony, I thought you were dead," she sobbed. "I saw you get shot."

"Just… a flesh wound," he mumbled. He had no energy or breath to spare to answer her further, practically falling to a kneeling position beside her to try to undo the cords that bit into her wrists and ankles.

Good old rule #9.

He reached for the knife at his belt, fumbling awkwardly as his right hand was all but useless, but managed to pull it out. Sawing raggedly at the cords one-handed, he silently cursed his stupid splint, and indeed this whole stupid mess.

Working through the cords was a tedious job, and when Ali was free, his adrenaline was spent and he sagged to the ground, drained. The knife dropped limply from his grasp with a noisy clatter that seemed both unrelated to him and out of place, for some reason.

"Tony?"

Ali scrambled over to his side. Her eyes grew wide as she took in his bloodstained shirt, the hole through the right side barely even visible under the blood that was still flowing freely.

_I really need to stop wearing Ermenegildo Zegna to work,_ Tony thought idly. _It always gets ruined__,_ _one way or another._

He tried to sit up, but a stab of blinding pain sliced up his side. He must've blacked out for a second because the next thing he knew Ali was frantically shaking his shoulder, calling his name.

He wanted to tell her that he was fine, just tired, but as he took in a steadying breath he instead coughed weakly, and brought up bright red blood.

Not good.

Ali gasped and went absolutely white at the sight. If she had looked scared before, there could be no question that she was petrified now.

"Tony," she began in a quavery voice as she took off her sweater and folded it into a square. "Tony, you're bleeding an awful lot. I need to put pressure on this, ok?"

She took a deep breath as she covered the wound with the sweater and pressed down with both hands. It hurt like hell and Tony couldn't prevent a strangled cry from escaping. Ali somehow managed a shade paler at the sound, but, biting her lip, she continued with the pressure.

It was so cold. So cold there on the floor. But he couldn't get up; he was too tired. The edges of his consciousness were graying, and he could feel himself slipping.

Ali noticed it too. "Stay with me Tony," she commanded.

Against his will, his eyes began to close.

"Tony?" Her voice became frightened and a little desperate. "Tony, don't leave me!" she pleaded.

That he wasn't sure he could, or should, do as she asked, was his last conscious thought before sinking back into warm, peaceful oblivion.


	19. Blood, Sweat, And Tears

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe/slight language

**Blah, blah, blah. Disclaimer stuff. Blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas and turns of phrase... Everything in the NCIS universe belongs to Donald P. Bellisario. I bow to his genius.

*Short one this time. I do apologize. But I thought it worked better as a standalone.*

**Chapter 19**

**Blood, Sweat, And Tears

* * *

**

If there was ever a time that McGee actually feared for his life while riding with his boss, this trip to the docks was it. He was gripping the door handle so hard that his knuckles were white, and he seemed to have left his stomach behind somewhere on the road from Frederick. It made the worst ride with Ziva seem like _Driving Miss Daisy _in comparison.

Not that he would have ever told her such a thing, lest she take it as a challenge.

Besides, he was almost certain there was a better film comparison to make. Tony would've known. If he were here.

But he wasn't. That was sort of the whole point. The whole reason that Gibbs was driving as though the entire Dalek Empire were on their tail.

As Gibbs turned a corner sharply, speeding up rather than slowing down, McGee grimaced and glanced over at Ziva. She, too, looked anxious, but he thought it more likely that she was worried about Tony than upset by their current velocity.

Not that he wasn't. Worried about Tony, that is. He was. They all were. The tension in the car was palpable.

If Tony were here… well, if Tony were here, they wouldn't be; but if he was and they were, he would have already been cracking jokes to ease the tension and probably making references to a movie with a great car chase. Something like _The Fast and the Furious_, or maybe _Gone in 60 Seconds_.

_Well, __which __do you__ mean__, Probie__:__ t__he__ original__ 1974 version__ or the remake__? _A familiar sounding voice in his head asked. _Personally, I prefer the original. __Both__ are pretty good,__ but__ the __chase scene in the __original is much longer__. And, I mean, 93 smashed cars in a 95 minute movie?__ You can't top that._

McGee shook his head. When on earth had he acquired an internal Tony voice? And one that spewed accurate movie trivia, at that. Clearly he was spending too much—

His train of thought was abruptly derailed as the car pulled up behind the factory and screeched to a stop next to two other vehicles already parked there. One of which, they could see, was obviously an NCIS sedan.

Gibbs was out of the car in a moment, hurrying toward the building with his gun drawn. Ziva and McGee swiftly followed suit, flanking him. Holding up three fingers, the team leader mutely counted down before yanking the door open forcefully. The trio burst inside, going through the familiar motions of each training their weapon in a different direction to give the others cover from potential hostiles.

As he took in the scene, Gibbs instantly deduced what must have happened: the positions of the guns on the floor, Giordani's dead body in the corner, and the slick trail of red leading to an almost equally motionless Tony.

"McGee, call for an ambulance!" he shouted as he rushed to the fallen agent's side. McGee was dialing before he even finished getting the sentence out.

Never assume; always double check.

"Ziva, check the body." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and then turned all his attention back to Tony.

Blood pooled on the floor around the unconscious man as it steadily spilled out from his wound, despite Ali's desperate efforts to staunch the flow.

She turned an anxious, tearstained face toward Gibbs as he approached. "He won't wake up," she whispered, sounding for all the world like a frightened little girl.

Gibbs knelt down and began to move her hands away so he could check the damage. He wasn't expecting to meet with resistance.

"No!" Ali shook her head frantically and refused to budge, more tears slipping down her face.

"Hey," he said gruffly before softening his tone somewhat. "It's ok. I've got him now."

She just blinked at him for several seconds, as though she couldn't understand his words, but then moved back and allowed him to take over.

Tony's chest was scarcely moving as he breathed in shallow, labored pants; his face was ashen and his skin cool to the touch. All in all, his senior field agent looked so fragile that Gibbs was almost afraid to move him, but he put one hand where Ali's had been, and carefully turned Tony slightly to the side with his other.

No exit wound.

Damn.

And all that blood. Much too much blood. The makeshift bandage was already completely soaked through.

Gibbs gently lay Tony back down and took off his own jacket to cover the wound. He began applying firm, even pressure, his eyes locked onto his agent's wan features.

_Dammit __Tony__! What were you thinking?_

He could hear McGee giving directions to the emergency operator in the background when suddenly Tony's breathing hitched and he let out a small, choked gasp. Then the slight rise and fall of his chest ceased and he became utterly still and silent under Gibbs' hands.

"Oh, no you don't!" Gibbs snarled as he reached one hand toward Tony's throat to feel for a pulse. "Don't you dare! You don't have permission to die on me!"

There was nothing.

No life-evident cadence beat under his fingers.

"Ziva, I need you over here!"

She was next to him in a second. Gibbs' voice held a desperation that she had never heard before, at least to this degree of urgency.

He pointed and Ziva immediately knew what she was meant to do.

Tony's teasing remark about mouth-to-mouth came into her head and she had to fight back a hysterical laugh that was almost a sob, blinking hard to clear away the blurry moisture in her eyes. What she wouldn't give to hear him joking like that now instead of lying on the ground so pale and still and lifeless. His lips were already taking on a bluish tint.

She tilted Tony's head back to open his airway, pinched his nose, and sealed her mouth around his. Gibbs started his round of chest compressions and at the correct intervals she gave rescue breaths.

As she forced her oxygen into Tony's unmoving lungs, she was unable to keep a solitary tear from falling from her eye and splashing down on her friend and partner's face.

_What could be taking the ambulance so long?_

As if reading her mind, Gibbs called out to McGee, not for a moment breaking in his ministrations. "How long McGee?"

"Five to ten minutes."

The rhythm continued without pause.

McGee turned to look at Ali, who had stumbled away after Gibbs had taken over putting pressure on Tony's wound. She was shaking badly, her hands held out in front of her as she stared at them uncomprehendingly. Hands covered in blood.

Tony's blood.

McGee felt sick at the thought.

He made his way over to Ali and touched her on the shoulder. She flinched away, then looked up at him as if just noticing he was there. Her face crumpled and she began to weep, her whole body racking with sobs. He drew her into his arms, as much to comfort himself as her, and they stood, listening as the sirens outside grew closer.

* * *

**A/N:** Ok, ok, I know what you're thinking: '3rd cliffie in a row? What is wrong with this chick?' Well, that has yet to be determined. :P And… I have no excuse. It is, in fact, inexcusable. Maybe I like to draw things out? Or maybe I'm just sick and twisted and get some kind of perverse enjoyment out of poor Tony's suffering? Pick whichever answer you prefer.

For those of you folks who now want to kill me: please don't. If I'm dead it will be next to impossible for me to finish this story. Thanks! XD

PS: I put a poll about this story on my profile page. Check it out!


	20. Life And Death And In Between

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe/slight language

**Blah, blah, blah. Disclaimer stuff. Blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas and turns of phrase... Everything in the NCIS universe belongs to Donald P. Bellisario. I bow to his genius.

*This chapter is brought to you by myself, my lovely beta Renthead07, copious amounts of cold medicine, as well as the musical talents of Journey, Switchfoot, Fall Out Boy, Seether, and many others. Thanks guys!*

**Chapter 20**

**Life And Death And In Between**

* * *

A flurry of activity commenced around Tony's inert form as emergency personnel arrived upon the scene. Gibbs and Ziva were made to stand aside, and now watched helplessly, silently with the others.

"No pulse," one paramedic shouted. The measured heartbeats from the attached EKG monitor were sounding far too quickly and rather irregularly. "He's in V-Tach."

Another paramedic inserted an IV line, then began ventilating Tony using a bag valve mask, while the first prepared to defibrillate.

Gibbs felt Ziva stiffen against his side, and put an arm around her. Watching the frantic bid to save his agent's life, he couldn't remember ever having felt so powerless. He was agonizingly aware that he had done all he could, and frankly, terrified that it wouldn't be enough.

_It's all __up to__ you now, Tony._

"Charging to 200. Clear!"

As soon as the shock was administered, the second paramedic went back to giving Tony oxygen, while the first checked the EKG to see if his heart had converted to a life-sustaining rhythm.

It hadn't.

_Please, Tony. Please. _Ziva didn't realize she was voicelessly mouthing the imploring words as she repeated them over and over in her mind. _Please, Tony._

"Charging to 300. Clear!"

The paramedic providing oxygen got clear and the other shocked Tony's heart again.

Still no change.

Wide-eyed and wordless, Ali clung to McGee as though her life depended on it. Glad for the moment to have something to hold on to, he automatically supported her trembling figure, unable to tear his stinging eyes away from the crisis unfolding in the center of the room.

_Come on, Tony. Don't do this to us._

"Charging to 360. Clear!"

Nothing.

"Get me a milligram of Epi!" the first paramedic instructed the other, beginning to administer chest compressions. After the injection of adrenaline and a round of CPR he again attempted to defibrillate.

"Charging to 360. Clear!"

For a few hopeful seconds, the EKG showed a normal reading, but then reverted back to its previous rhythm.

"Ok. 40U of Vasopressin," the first paramedic ordered, as he carried out another series of chest compressions.

_Dammit, DiNozzo!_ Gibbs desperately clenched his fists, as if somehow hoping that would make a difference._ You have to fight!_

"Charging to 360. Clear!"

This time the anxious onlookers were rewarded with an answering steady beep from the EKG, accompanied by violent retching as Tony, still insensible, expelled the excess air that had been forced in during CPR, together with the other contents of his stomach.

"We've got him," the first paramedic announced, the monitor now showing a normal, albeit slightly rapid, sinus rhythm, as the second paramedic suctioned out the vomit so that Tony wouldn't choke. "Pulse is a little weak, but it'll do."

Gibbs let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. _Atta boy, Tony._

Just then, another monitor blared out a piercing alarm.

"O2 sats are still dropping," the second paramedic called out. "We need to intubate now."

They wasted no time, swiftly placing an endotracheal tube and then securing Tony on a gurney and loading into the back of the ambulance.

Frozen, numb, in shock, the group all stared down the road after the departing ambulance. As the flashing lights sped out of sight, Gibbs spoke up.

"Let's go."

* * *

"—at Washington Hospital Center, Duck… Yeah. Could you… tell Abby?… Thanks. She'll want to be here."

As he closed the phone, Gibbs leaned back in the stiff plastic chair with a sigh, feeling utterly exhausted.

They had arrived at the hospital to find that Tony had been immediately rushed into surgery, and, though Gibbs knew it was much too early to hear anything, he still couldn't help looking up every time someone came out of the doors that led to Trauma.

He glanced around the waiting room. Two chairs down, Ziva sat ramrod straight, her legs crossed and her arms folded rigidly around herself as one foot tapped impatiently, almost imperceptibly. Across from them, McGee stared at the ground, his head propped up in one hand glumly. His other was firmly clutched in both of Ali's as she listlessly occupied the next seat, her knees drawn up to her chin and her eyes focused blankly ahead at the wall. She hadn't said a word since the factory and she was shivering, whether from shock or cold, Gibbs didn't know. He realized with a start that she was still covered in now-dry blood nearly up to her elbows, a macabre and unnecessary reminder of the events of the past hour.

"Ziva."

The Israeli turned to look at him, questioningly.

He gestured toward Ali. "Get her cleaned up."

After a second in which she seemed about to protest, Ziva nodded and walked over to Ali, speaking a few low words. Ali just stared up at Ziva, seeming uncertain and a little fearful until McGee said something that appeared to reassure her, then she stood and trailed Ziva down the hall into the ladies' room.

Gibbs looked away, lost in his thoughts, until Ducky and Abby showed up a few minutes later. The forensic tech ran directly into Gibbs' arms, her lower lip quivering.

"Gibbs! How bad is it? I mean, I know it's bad, because Ducky wouldn't tell me anything. But it can't be that bad, right? I mean, it's Tony. He _has_ to be ok. He just has to. Right?" Abby looked up at Gibbs' face, trying to read his expression. "Right, Gibbs?" she begged, her eyes beginning to fill with tears.

He pulled her in close and pressed his lips to the top of her head, saying more with his silence than any words could convey.

* * *

Ali mechanically followed Ziva over to the sink but made no move to turn on the faucet, instead continuing to stare off into space.

Ziva held back a frustrated sigh, knowing that Ali had not been trained as she was, and more than likely had never experienced a situation like this before; she couldn't blame her for not knowing how to react. Not to mention that her brother had just been shot before her eyes. That would rattle anyone.

It did.

She reached across and turned on the tap, then placed the younger woman's hands under the stream of water.

Gazing in horrified fascination at the water swirling pink down the basin, Ali stood stock-still and silent as Ziva wiped the blood from her arms with damp paper towels. She still hadn't moved as Ziva shut off the water and began to help her dry.

When the unexpectedly gentle touch got to her right hand, Ali let out an involuntary hiss of pain. Ziva was confused until she spotted the swollen joint of her little finger.

"Your finger is broken," she observed.

Ali slowly looked down at the appendage in question, seeming surprised, as though she had never seen it before. Then, cradling it with her other hand as if to protect it, she closed her eyes for a moment, gasping as the sound of the faintly dripping faucet echoed off the tiles and brought her back to the factory.

The just-recalled pain in her hand was shunted aside as she relived that morning; her fear when she realized Tony was shot, the short-lived relief when he had freed her, and the absolute helpless terror that filled her when he had succumbed to the blood loss, leaving her feeling completely alone in the world. All these memories and emotions assailed her at once, and her eyes flew open wide with a stifled sob.

"Is he going to die?" she whispered, the last word catching in her throat.

Ziva met her eyes, noticing for the first time how very like Tony's they were. No amount of tired platitudes would make either woman feel better, and they both knew it. "We should go have your hand looked at."

* * *

McGee stared at the clock on the wall, wondering if it could possibly be right. The hands seemed to be moving at a snail's pace, and yet hours had passed since Tony had been brought in.

Hours, and they hadn't heard anything.

As the time had grown later and began to stretch into the evening, they'd all become more and more anxious.

Next to McGee, Ali's position was much the same as that morning, but she was no longer shivering. He had given her his jacket to wear, and it made her look very small as she huddled in the chair. She still grasped his hand tightly like a life-line, her grip not affected one bit by her splinted finger, and he thought she might soon bite through her lip.

Ziva had begun pacing around the waiting room and muttering under her breath in some foreign language, while Jimmy sat solemnly in the corner, having come in from his day off as soon as he'd heard. Abby was glued to Gibbs' side, as Ducky tried to comfort her with the information that this was one of the finest Level One Trauma Centers in the country.

"—as a matter of fact, I am acquainted with several of the doctors here, and they are all quite skilled—"

Tuning the ME out, McGee thought about how fitting the designation of waiting room was. Waiting was infuriating at the best of times, but it was all they could do right now; wait. Wait for someone, anyone, to come out of those cold, sterile swinging doors and tell them what was going on.

The whole thing was still surreal. Mere hours earlier, Tony had been his usual self, and now they weren't even sure whether he was going to make it. It all seemed like some sort of cruel joke.

He stared at the cooling paper cups in front of them on the table. Someone had gone to get coffee for everyone, he wasn't sure who. Ducky or Jimmy perhaps. But even Gibbs had barely touched his.

The team leader was expressionless and silent, only answering direct queries with terse one-word replies. That in itself was not unusual, but McGee could tell that he was preoccupied.

Suddenly startled out of his own reverie when a serious looking man in wire-rimmed glasses and scrubs approached the group, McGee felt Ali's hand tense in his. This was it. The moment of truth.

"Are you all here for Agent DiNozzo?"

"Yes, that's us." Ducky stood and answered for all of them.

The man removed his glasses and wiped his brow. Everyone leaned in to hear as he began to deliver his news.

* * *

**A/N:** I know, I know! I'm a terrible person! *waits to receive multiple virtual headslaps* But at least now we're getting somewhere! Right?

So I realize that I've missed my self-imposed 'a week apart at the most' deadline, but in my defense I've had the most awful cold starting last week and into this one. You'd think that being sick and begging off social activities would give me more time to write—and I did try—but my brain didn't seem to want to function so I mostly slept. When I could breathe, that is. 'Aha!' you may say, 'That virus was your punishment for being so evil to Tony!' Well, if it _was_ an attempt by the universe at behavior modification, it has sadly (or happily, depending on your perspective) failed. I'm still as just much of a hurt-comfort junkie as ever.

Also, I've decided that it would probably be wise to befriend a doctor, or a med student, or something, somebody who knows things, so that next time I don't have to look up all this science-y stuff myself. My eyes still ache from reading all those medical articles… tiny print + B I G words = ick… But at least I know I'm accurate! Heck, I could practically get a medical degree myself now. Well, if I specialized in Tony's specific injuries, that is…


	21. Where To Go From Waking

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe/slight language

**Blah, blah, blah. Disclaimer stuff. Blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas and turns of phrase... Everything in the NCIS universe belongs to Donald P. Bellisario. I bow to his genius.

**Chapter 21**

**Where To Go From Waking**

* * *

Bright lights glared down and reflected off the shiny metal of the autopsy table, casting a harsh pallor on Tony's already unnaturally pale skin. If not for that, and the starkly purple rimmed 22 caliber hole in his chest, he could almost be mistaken as being among the living.

Standing over him, Ducky shook his head sorrowfully. "Oh, my dear, dear boy. Such a regretful day for us all. You will be sorely missed. I remember all too well when our dear Caitlin was taken from us, in much the similar fashion. I suppose it's almost to be expected in this line of work, but still, there is guilt felt all round. I am afraid Jethro has taken it terribly hard. He blames himself, of course, though you and I both know he was not at fault. I daresay you knew just how reckless you were being, and were willing to pay the price."

He patted Tony's cold hand gently, and sighed. "I understand why you did it, Anthony, I do. I only wish that the cost had not been so high, and so final. You had a great many years ahead of you still."

The autopsy doors slid open.

"Ah, Mr. Palmer." Ducky turned to face his assistant. "Are we set?"

Jimmy stopped a ways away from the table, averting his eyes. "Um, actually, Dr. Mallard, I was wondering if I could have a minute?"

"Of course." Ducky started to leave the room, pausing to lay a sympathetic hand on Jimmy's arm. "I never would have guessed it when you first began working here, but I know you two became rather close. He valued your friendship a great deal."

After the doors closed behind Ducky, Jimmy walked slowly over to the table.

"Hey, Tony," he began hesitantly. His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard and tried again. "Well, it's sure going to be different around here now. I mean, I know it isn't exactly your fault, but…"

Abruptly, Jimmy's tone became angry.

"Aw, screw this. You know, I like to think that we were friends, Tony. I mean, yeah, like Dr. Mallard said, it wasn't the most likely friendship, but it was there. And I just don't know how you could do this. Why couldn't you wait for backup? I know she was your sister and all, but did you even think about what this would do to her? Or to the rest of us?" He shook his head.

"It's all such a mess. Abby's a complete wreck, and Agent Gibbs isn't much use for comforting her right now. It's like the Ari thing all over again, but he can't get his revenge since you already killed the guy, and so this whole thing is eating him up inside. And then Ziva just tries to be all stoic and pretends like she hasn't been crying, but you can tell she's lying because her eyes are always red. McGee, I think, is still in shock. He's had to be the strong one for everyone since Gibbs is so out of it. I guess he'll be the new senior agent now. Probably not at all how he pictured this promotion."

Jimmy looked down for a moment before going on.

"Let's see, what else. Um, Director Vance took the team off rotation indefinitely. Oh, apparently your father isn't sure if he can come in for the funeral. He's out of the country or something. But, I guess, maybe, you didn't expect him to come anyway."

He sighed. "So, I- I took your American Pie coffee mug. I know you got mad last time, but I figured it would be ok now. Right? Well, anyway, I just wanted to let you know that it's in good hands."

When Ducky came back in a few minutes later, Jimmy had set up the tray of instruments.

"Ready, Mr. Palmer?"

"As I'll ever be."

"You know, the first is always the hardest," Ducky told him.

"The first, Dr. Mallard?" Jimmy replied, confused.

"The first autopsy of someone you know," Ducky clarified, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. "Why, even now when I think back to the first time I was required to assist in an autopsy of a man that I knew—now, mind you, he was not a close friend either, merely an acquaintance, but still, I—"

Ducky picked up a scalpel as he continued his tale, and it moved slowly, spellbindingly, closer and closer to…

* * *

"Tony!" Abby came awake with a sudden jerk, gasping in horror. She blinked and took a deep breath as a steady mechanical beeping reminded her where she was.

She scooted her chair closer to the hospital bed where Tony lay and, circumventing numerous wires, tubes, and lines, reached out to squeeze his hand, feeling his reassuring warmth.

Hmm. Maybe a bit _too_ warm.

Frowning, she laid her palm against his flushed cheek. He was definitely a little feverish, but the doctors had said it was to be expected after the trauma his body had gone through.

What they didn't know was exactly when he would wake up. It was almost three days now since Tony had been shot, and while he was almost certainly out of danger, he had yet to regain consciousness due to the blood loss, and the doctors couldn't be sure about any permanent damage until then.

This was troubling to Abby, and indeed to them all. None of them were at all comfortable with a Tony who wasn't constantly chattering or quoting movies at them, a Tony who wasn't flirting with anything in a skirt, a Tony who wasn't, well, Tony. And the idea that he might not wake as the Tony that they knew, was disconcerting, to say the least.

Abby shuddered, thinking of how close they had come to losing him altogether.

_Everyone leaned in to hear as the man, who introduced himself as Dr. Flynn, began to deliver his news._

"_He's out of surgery now and in recovery."_

_A collective sigh of relief went around at those words, and the mood in the small room almost visibly lifted._

"_How is he?" Ducky asked._

"_Honestly, it was touch and go for a while there, but he's doing as well as can be expected right now. He suffered massive blood loss, and it was a fight to get him stabilized so that we could assess the damage. The bullet entered between the seventh and eighth anterior ribs, perforating the diaphragm, and continued through the lower right lobe of the liver. It then ricocheted off the ninth rib in the back, fracturing it, and then grazed his right lung before it came to a stop in the intercostal tissue." Here the doctor paused. "He's quite lucky."_

"_Oh?" Gibbs cocked an eyebrow._

"_Well, the bullet hit the ninth rib very near the spine," Dr. Flynn explained. "Half an inch to his left, and he could have been paralyzed. And then there's the fact that he got here just in time. Liver injuries bleed profusely; any longer and he would have almost certainly bled out."_

_The group took this in soberly._

"_He's still in serious condition, and we'll be monitoring him closely for the next 24 hours, but, barring any complications, there's no reason he shouldn't make a full recovery."_

Once Tony had been moved to the ICU later that evening, they'd all filed in to see him. Abby remembered how small and vulnerable he had seemed lying there so still, surrounded by and attached to all kinds of medical equipment, including, to the team's alarm, a ventilator.

"_It's just a precaution," Dr. Flynn assured them. "We don't foresee any issues, but considering his rather unusual medical history, we want to be sure he's getting enough oxygen and not having to work too hard for it, at least for the time being. If all goes well, we'll take it out after the critical 24 hours have passed."_

When Dr. Flynn had left, they'd had to explain to Ali what he meant by 'unusual medical history.' To say that she was shocked to learn of Tony's brush with death via the plague would be an understatement.

But thankfully, the doctor had been right and Tony was breathing on his own now, with only the aid of a nasal cannula supplying oxygen.

As Abby watched the comforting, even rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest, she began to nod off again.

"Abbs."

Her eyes flew open. Gibbs stood in the doorway, a fresh coffee in his hand.

"Take a break. You've been here all night."

"So have you, Gibbs," she pointed out. "_Ev__ery _night."

He just gave her a look.

"Go get something to eat. Take her with you." He gestured at Ali, who was curled up sound asleep in her chair on the other side of the room.

Abby sighed. "Ok."

She stood and stretched widely to get out the kinks before walking over to wake Ali. The two women soon left, and Gibbs had scarcely sat down in the chair next to Tony's bed when Abby stuck her head back in the door.

"Can we bring you back anything?"

He glanced down at his coffee then back at Abby in answer.

"That's a no. Gotcha, Bossman."

She began to leave, then turned back once more.

"Oh, Gibbs, I just remembered. It's Sunday."

"Yeah?" he acknowledged, not sure why she was bringing it up.

"Well, do you think it would be ok if we went to church? It wouldn't be for long; we'd be back soon, but the sisters were going to say a prayer for Tony, and they wanted me to let them know how he's doing, but they won't have their cell phones on in church so I can't call them, so the only way I can tell them is if I go to the service this morning, and Ali's going to come with me." She took a breath. "So is that ok, Gibbs, do you think? I mean, you don't think anything will happen while we're gone, do you?"

"That's fine, Abbs. Go."

"You'll call if anything changes?" She didn't give him a chance to answer. "Of course you will. Ok, we won't be long."

Gibbs settled back into the chair. He wasn't by nature a patient man—when he demanded results he got them—but he knew how to wait. His days as a sniper and countless stakeout hours as a field agent had made him well acquainted with the galling, although often necessary process.

And so he waited. Sitting there, sipping his coffee with an inscrutable expression; staring intently at the man in the bed across the room, the man who was like a son to him, the man who had very nearly died underneath his hands not three days earlier.

About half an hour into Gibbs' vigilant watch, the heart monitor sped up slightly and Tony began to stir, letting out a groan as his forehead furrowed up in distress.

"Tony? Hey, DiNozzo, wake up."

Tony's eyes fluttered open at the command, and came to rest on Gibbs.

"Hey… Boss," he replied faintly, grimacing and closing his eyes tightly again as the pain of his injuries made itself known.

"I'll go get your doctor," Gibbs told him before quickly stepping out into the hallway.

* * *

After making his promised call to Abby, Gibbs met Dr. Flynn as he came out of Tony's room.

"How's he doing?" he questioned.

"He's doing fine. I still want to keep an eye on his temperature, but there's nothing to worry about unless it keeps rising. I've given him something for the pain, and he'll probably drop off again in about twenty minutes or so."

Twenty minutes. Plenty of time.

Gibbs thanked the doctor, then walked back into the room. Reaching behind him, he slowly, deliberately closed the door, then turned back to face Tony. His eyes were dark and unreadable.

"Do you mind telling me," he began in a calm and deadly quiet voice, stalking closer with each word, "just what— the—_ HELL _you thought you were doing?"

* * *

**A/N:** Had you going at the beginning, didn't I? ;)


	22. Facing Up

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe/slight language

**Blah, blah, blah. Disclaimer stuff. Blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas and turns of phrase... Everything in the NCIS universe belongs to Donald P. Bellisario. I bow to his genius.

**Chapter 22**

**Facing Up**

* * *

"Huh? _What_ were you thinking, Tony?" Gibbs brought a most intimidating glare down to bear on Tony, taking care to keep his voice level all the while.

If Gibbs' intention was to rein in his obvious anger by not granting it volume, he patently failed; despite the almost menacingly soft tones, or perhaps because of them, Tony knew he was in for quite possibly the dressing-down of his life. And, truth be told, he felt that he half deserved it. Nevertheless, whether he was emboldened by the painkillers beginning to drip into his veins, or he was simply trying to make up for three silent days, self-preservation dove headlong out the window as Tony met his boss' gaze, and, in a singularly unwise moment, chose the sarcastic route.

"Could you be more specific? I mean, I know it may not _seem_ like it, but actually I do my fair share of thinking from time to time."

Tony shrank back into the pillows as the ferocity on Gibbs' face suddenly increased tenfold.

"Wow, Boss." Tony blinked slowly and twisted his mouth into a wry grin. "If looks could kill… Guess it's lucky we're in a hospital."

"Don't you give me that smart ass routine!" Gibbs hissed, still exerting a modicum of self-control in that he hadn't yet raised his voice. "I want to know what on earth possessed you to go charging in there without backup and damn well nearly getting yourself killed, and I want to know—_now_!" He stabbed his finger into the air on the last word to emphasize his point.

All traces of humor gone from his face, Tony looked down, seemingly fascinated by the starched white sheets that he plucked at with his left hand. "Ok, I get it. You're pissed."

"'_Pissed_'?!" repeated Gibbs, his eyebrows shooting skyward in disbelief. "Pissed does not _begin_ to cover what I am, Tony! Do you know how damn lucky you are to be alive? For that matter, do you know how lucky you are that you're not paralyzed?"

Clearly Tony had not even considered that outcome, judging by his uneasy swallow, even as he tried to sit up a little straighter. "Boss, I—"

Gibbs paid him no mind as he continued his rant. "Of all the reckless, impulsive, irresponsible things you've done, putting your own life at risk, I can't believe you would disobey my direct order!"

Indignant, Tony's eyes flashed as he set his jaw stubbornly. "I didn't."

"Excuse me?!" Gibbs spat out dangerously, his own eyes blazing.

Tony held his ground, hating how weak his voice sounded at the moment. "You ordered me not to come with you, and I most certainly obeyed that."

"You're splitting hairs, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, pacing over to the window and staring out.

"What was I supposed to do, huh?" Tony demanded. "I didn't have a choice."

"Something wrong with your memory?" Gibbs turned back to face Tony. "You forget rule 15?"

"Oh, yeah. Cuz you're _always_ such a team player," scoffed Tony. "What about Domino? Or Maddie Tyler? As I recall, that one almost got _you_ killed."

Gibbs glowered. "That's different," he replied stiffly.

"Why?" Tony retorted. "What is this, 'do as I say, not as I do'? I didn't know that was one of your rules." He began to fold his arms defiantly across his chest, but quickly withdrew them with a sharp intake of air and a wince.

Ignoring the question, Gibbs noted the pain and fatigue etched on Tony's face with some consternation.

"You should have waited."

_Maybe this talk should have waited__,_ he mentally chastised himself.

"I didn't have any idea when you'd be back, and no one was picking up the phone—" Tony gave a frustrated shrug, wincing again as the movement jarred his not-yet-entirely-numb right side. "I'm sorry Gibbs, I couldn't wait anymore."

"Couldn't, or wouldn't?" Gibbs challenged.

"Couldn't," Tony insisted heatedly, the EKG in the background registering his agitation. "I couldn't just sit there and do _nothing_!"

"Tony—"

"Especially not when it was my fault to begin with. Ali never would have been in danger at all if it hadn't been for me!" He looked down, shaking his head slowly. "And she never will again, not if I can help it."

The last bit was said so quietly Gibbs could hardly make out the words. He wasn't sure whether he was actually meant to hear them.

Tony abruptly sighed and slumped back against the pillows, having worn himself out. Gibbs watched him as he stared down at his hands, looking exhausted and suddenly very young.

"I have rules too, Gibbs," Tony began, "and my number 1 rule is that I don't sit on the sidelines when my people need me."

"Look, Boss, I _know_ it was stupid, ok?" he went on quietly. "But I _had_ to. I couldn't let him hurt her. And you can't deny that you would've done exactly the same thing in my position."

Gibbs' thoughts and emotions were at war. On one hand, he wanted to smack Tony upside the head for being so foolhardy and bench him until he'd learned his lesson. On the other hand, he knew his anger was not completely justified. In actuality, it was concern masquerading as anger, and a part of him wanted nothing more than to take the younger man in his arms and berate him for scaring everyone half to death. And besides that, all-pervasive in the back of his mind was the irritating knowledge that what Tony said was true. He _would_ have done the same thing—no two ways about it—if someone he cared about, someone he felt responsible for, like a family member or one of his team, was in danger.

"Tony," he began again.

His agent—his son, really—looked up at him, every feature pleading for understanding, for absolution, for approval; and Gibbs felt something tug at his heart.

Steely blue eyes softened as they stared straight into stormy green. Gibbs was a man of few words, but for this no words were necessary; at that moment both knew that all was forgiven.

Then the moment passed.

"You will_ NO__T_—do anything like this again," Gibbs told him sternly.

"No," Tony promised. "I swear."

A peculiar expression darted across his face that was gone before Gibbs could figure out exactly what it was. Shame? Guilt? Sorrow? A combination of the three?

Tony interrupted his musings. "So, I guess you were worried about me, huh? Abby's right; you really are just a softie underneath." He gave a small tired grin that was no less cheeky for the lack of energy behind it.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, DiNozzo." Despite his gruff reply, there was an odd mixture of fond annoyance and gentle teasing apparent in his voice. "You know I just hate training new agents."

After stifling a yawn, Tony laughed quietly. "Right."

"Particularly senior agents. Good ones are hard to come by."

"Hmm," Tony blinked up at him drowsily. "They must have me on some pretty good stuff. I'd swear you just said something that could be construed as a compliment."

"Did I?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow doubtfully.

"Mhm," Tony slurred, struggling to keep his heavy eyelids open as sleep enticed him ever closer. "Sounded like it to me. But don't worry. 'M not gonna tell."

Gibbs smirked. "Better not. Everyone'll want one."

Tony smiled and, giving in to his weariness, closed his eyes and soon drifted off.

Gibbs stood over Tony for several minutes, watching him breathe and puzzling about the look he'd seen in the other man's eyes just before. He didn't know what it meant, but he had a feeling it wasn't good.

"Where's your head, Tony?" he murmured.

* * *

**A/N: **Hey guys! Barely made it within my deadline. Whew! Just wanted to let you guys know, it may be a couple of weeks before I get the next chapter posted. I'm moving next weekend and have all kinds of packing and junk to do this week, so I may not be able to get a chapter done. If I can at least get a short one up, I will do so, but if not, I thought I'd warn you so you won't think I've gone insane and abandoned you all. I would never ever do such a thing. Well, the abandoned part, at least… XD Going insane is more than likely to happen, since this'll be my 7th move in 3 years. Fun, right? Ah, the life of a college student/taking-a-break-from-college-non-student, which is me. :P

Please review!

xoxoxoxox


	23. Letting Down

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe/slight language

**Blah, blah, blah. Disclaimer stuff. Blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas and turns of phrase... Everything in the NCIS universe belongs to Donald P. Bellisario. I bow to his genius.

* * *

**A/N:** ...Ok, by raise of hand, who really thought that I would spell 'Author's Note' as 'Author's Not'? Haha! XD

Some of you realized that I wasn't serious, but the majority of you didn't, so I feel I must apologize for last "chapter." I first of all want to assure you all that it was completely, entirely, 100% an April Fool's Day joke and I am not going to abandon or delete this story.

Heaven forbid!

I know exactly where I'm going with it, and I've had an end in mind since before I started writing.

I was being very silly and sleep deprived and with all the craziness in my life had only just realized that we were already upon my very bestest favorite holiday, so I decided to have a little fun. Turns out that I'm slightly less hilarious than I think I am late at night. :/

I want to thank you all for your lovely encouraging reviews. So many of you reviewed (31! Most I've ever gotten in a chapter and it was for a joke! Haha! XD), but only one reviewer mentioned what I hid in the 7th paragraph. Kudos to **mamapranayama**. Hmmm… maybe it was too subtle. If so, here is a link to a short video that should explain everything.

www

.youtube.

com

/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ

Anyway, please forgive me my little joke. Ple-e-ease? *begs with puppy eyes* I wrote you a short chapter as penance.

And congrats to **Mickeygee** for getting my A Very Potter Musical reference. **Gaddkzmp **too, though I knew that you would. :)

Oh, and to **Katya** (who I unfortunately couldn't answer back directly as she reviewed anonymously), I was linked on a TonyWhump page on LJ? For real? Wow! I feel famous now! You totally have to message me the link or something. Just make sure you break it up so that the FFN-bots don't think it's spam. XD!!!

* * *

**Chapter 23**

**Letting Down**

* * *

Late that evening, the sound of quiet murmuring from somewhere nearby trickled into Tony's consciousness as he again became aware of his surroundings.

He opened his eyes and was met with a quite unexpected sight: Ali and Ziva were sitting together on the other side of the room, talking to each other in low voices.

And, most surprising of all, neither one looked the least bit homicidal.

He cleared his throat and watched as their heads whipped toward him simultaneously.

"Tony!" Ali exclaimed delightedly.

"How are you feeling, Tony?" Ziva asked solicitously.

Staunchly ignoring the growing twinge in his side that let him know that he was probably due for more painkillers, Tony flashed his most charming grin. "Peachy."

Ziva shook her head, scoffing lightly. "Of course you are."

"Now, I hope you two weren't just talking about me behind my back," he drawled. "That's very rude, you know."

Ziva smirked and rolled her eyes while Ali beamed at him.

Tony grinned back at his sister. "Nice outfit," he teased. "But you didn't have to dress up for me."

Ali looked down a little self-consciously. She was wearing a long black Victorian style dress trimmed in red lace.

"Oh, this is Abby's," she explained with a giggle. "From church today. I haven't been to church in a while, and well, I didn't really have anything proper to wear, but we're almost the same size so she let me borrow it. And then after church we came right back here and I just never changed."

Tony was only half-listening through Ali's explanation as his eyes drifted guiltily over her splinted hand and the fading bruise across her cheekbone. Wincing as the scene from the factory replayed in his mind, he remembered his earlier vow and was once more resolved that he could never let anything like that happen again.

He came back to reality when he realized that both Ali and Ziva were staring at him inquisitively.

"Tony?" Ziva looked as though she had already called his name several times. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he replied, attempting a reassuring smile. "Listen, Ziva, do you think I could talk to Ali alone for a minute?"

She held his eyes suspiciously, not looking one bit like she believed his 'fine', but she nodded anyway. "Of course. I will go find the others. Tell them you are awake."

When Ziva left, Ali came and stood at the end of the bed, wringing her hands together almost shyly. The silence grew uncomfortable as Tony tried to think of the best way to say what had to come next.

After a minute, Ali began hurriedly speaking to fill the awkward void between them.

"So, um, if you're wondering where everyone is, Dr. Mallard made Agent Gibbs come down to the cafeteria with him, and—"

"Wait, hold on," Tony interrupted. "Ducky _made_ him?"

"Sure did." Ali grinned impishly as she launched into a perfect imitation of Ducky. "'Jethro, of course I realize you were a Marine, but even Marines cannot subsist entirely on coffee and certainly should not. I simply must insist that you come and get something more substantial, or you're liable to end up in hospital yourself before long.'"

Tony snickered. "Man, I'm sort of regretting sleeping through that."

"And Abby was here, but she left just a few minutes ago," Ali went on. "She was caffeine-deprived, and I guess they don't have Caf-Pow at the hospital, so she recruited Tim and Jimmy to help her search for an acceptable substitute." She laughed. "Oh, but she left Bert to stay with you."

Tony turned his head to the side. Sure enough, Bert the hippo was smiling up at him from the chair next to his bed. Despite himself, Tony felt his own mouth curve up in a half-smile before he promptly banished it.

"Ali, we need to talk."

She sobered at his serious tone. "Ok."

"See, the thing is—" Tony broke off, frowning. He was usually so good with words.

Ali glanced down and began twisting a strand of hair between her fingers, something he had noticed she did when she was nervous.

Could he do this?

He had to.

"It's just that—"

Ali looked back up at him, her eyes inquisitive. She obviously had no idea what was coming.

He should just get it over fast. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. That way it wouldn't hurt as much.

Oh, who was he kidding?

He looked her straight in the eye. "Ok, look, this whole thing about us getting to know each other, Ali, it's not going to work, and I think we need to stop trying to make it work."

Ali just looked at him blankly.

"I mean, we don't really have anything in common," Tony tried again. "And I'm not at a place right now where I want or need a sister. Just because we share a few genes doesn't really make us family."

"What?" she asked, seeming confused. "I… I don't…"

Tony sighed. "What I mean," he told her slowly, hating himself for having to spell it out, for having to do this in the first place, "is that it's probably best if we go our separate ways. Starting now."

Ali recoiled as if Tony had slapped her, her face paling with shock. Within seconds though, the shock had disappeared and was replaced with devastation and betrayal.

"I should have known." Her eyes sparkled with angry tears but her voice held no emotion. "You're just like your father."

Of all the things she could have said, this, by far, was the most cutting. He blinked, stunned, and felt an unexpected deep pang of remorse as Ali turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

He opened his mouth to call her back, to convince her that he wasn't, he couldn't be, he wouldn't.

Not ever.

Then the more rational part of his brain took over.

_This is what you wanted, right? Her safety?_

Yes, of course it was.

_She would never be safe around you. She's better off._

Of course that was right. That's why he'd done it.

_So what does it matter that she hates you now, probably always will? You got what you wanted._

Yes, he had. So why did it feel like he'd gotten a kick in the gut instead? He knew it had to be done and he didn't regret it, not exactly. But he hadn't expected her to hate him for it.

_Really? You know she lost her mother when she was young, __the__ grandmother __who raised her __recently died, her father rejected her, and now the only other relative she has in the world wants nothing to do with her, and you _didn't_ expect her to hate you? Come on DiNozzo, you may play the fool, but you're not stupid._

He had no answer to that.

_So she hates you. Tough. Suck it up, DiNozzo._

His thoughts were interrupted as a pretty nurse came into the room and began checking his vitals.

"Ready for more pain medication, Mr. DiNozzo?" she asked.

He just nodded and she left the room, coming back a minute later with a syringe which she injected into his IV line.

"Anything else you need?" She smiled brightly at him.

Tony shook his head.

"Alright then, if you do need anything, go ahead and call the nurse's station." She headed for the door and then stopped, favoring him with another huge smile. "Oh, I'm Summer, by the way."

He forced a small smile of his own. "Thanks Summer."

She left, looking a little disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm.

Normally he would have flirted with her a bit, maybe gotten her number. But then, normally he didn't feel as though he had just murdered a litter of puppies.

Left alone with his guilt, Tony leaned back against the pillows and sighed, resigned to suck it up, indeed.

* * *

**A/N:** I meant to post this chapter right at midnight on the 2nd so you guys wouldn't have so long to wait and stew, but my internet got disconnected a day early and I have just now gotten reconnected. And for all of you who were wondering, the move went smoothly, faster than I thought, despite the lack of men-folk around to help. Slackers! Me and my girls had to do almost everything. :P I survived, however, with only a few bruises and broken/smashed nails for a souvenir, but anyway I am totally exhausted, and will be sleeping _very_ soundly tonight.


	24. Aftershocks

**Title: **How To Relate

**Rating:** T just to be safe/slight language

**Blah, blah, blah. Disclaimer stuff. Blah:** Just in case these things actually do something... I own nothing except my super-cool ideas and turns of phrase... Everything in the NCIS universe belongs to Donald P. Bellisario. I bow to his genius.

**A/N:** Ok, not to sound like a total n00b (which I guess technically I am, being that this is the first story I've ever posted/written), but I'm just wondering if anyone could let me in on the secret to communities around here. How do stories get posted to them? Do the creators of the communities just find the stories that they want to go in them? Or is it acceptable to message a creator to ask for your own story to be included in a community? If anyone could help me out with these questions I would love you forever. Thanks!

In other news, my lovely beta **Renthead07** has just started posting her first NCIS story. It's Tony-centric, hurt/comfort/romance, so all you Tony lovers or just plain NCIS lovers need to go over to her profile and check it out! :)

Also, I had an anonymous reviewer tell me that I was linked on a Tony!Whump page on livejournal, but I cannot seem to find it anywhere. If anyone has the link to the page, and could get it to me, it is worth up to 10 Bestest Favorite Reader Points! XD

Happy (meh… not sure if that's the correct adjective… despicable, maybe? :P) Tax Day yesterday for those of you in the US.

And now… on with the show!

* * *

**Chapter 24**

**Aftershocks**

* * *

"TONY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Abby's high-pitched squeal echoed through the hall as she sprinted into Tony's room, skidding to a stop just short of his bed. She frowned and chewed her bottom lip as she looked her friend up and down, taking him in.

As relieving as it was that Tony was finally awake, he really did look awful, she decided. Worse than this morning even. The dark circles now visible under his eyes marred his pale face like bruises, and he seemed somehow off. Like something was wrong. Of course she hadn't expected him to look one hundred percent, but still…

Tony looked up at her, quizzical. "Abby?"

Abby brushed the nagging thought aside. "I'm trying to figure out where I can hug you so I don't hurt you," she explained.

Walking around to the left side of the bed, she very carefully embraced Tony, laying her cheek against his chest. She closed her eyes, both hearing and feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her.

"You really scared me, Tony, you know?" The confession was whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Tony was beginning to feel the effects of the painkillers, a sort of foggy, drowsy sensation, but oddly without the most of the silliness that he usually experienced. He attributed this to the rather bad mood he was in at the moment due to his 'talk' with Ali and the fact that he really wasn't feeling too well. His head was aching and he wished he could just go back to sleep, but he forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

"I know, Abbs," he replied softly, patting her on the back. "I'm sorry."

Abby just sniffed loudly into the shoulder of his hospital gown in response.

"Hey, Abby, it's ok. I'm ok." Taking her chin in his hand, Tony lifted her face toward his so that their eyes were level. "I'm just fine. See?"

"Yeah," Abby sniffed again as she blinked back the moisture that was threatening to spill from her eyes. "But what if you weren't fine? Huh? I mean, gosh Tony, I don't even know what we'd do without you. It'd be like Rocky Road without marshmallows, or Sesame Street without Snuffleupagus, or like the A-Team without Murdock—"

"Wait, Murdock?" Tony interrupted, somewhat miffed. "Seriously? Why am I Murdock? Why can't I be Hannibal, or…"

His protests petered out with one look from Abby, as she straightened up, hands on her hips, in full lecture mode.

"Tony, if you ever— and I mean _ever_— make me worry like that again, I will personally kick your ass from here to Tuesday, mister. Got that?"

"Yes ma'am." Tony saluted her.

"Good." Abby nodded in satisfaction.

"Knock, knock."

Tony and Abby looked up to see McGee at the door, holding a six-pack carton of Red Bull. Behind him, Palmer was carrying a large bunch of balloons, weighted down at the bottom with a stuffed bear.

"You guys mind if we come and join the party?"

Physically, Tony was exhausted and in pain; mentally, he was irritable at best, not to mention still actively kicking himself over Ali. As a result, he was certainly less than excited at the prospect of more visitors at the moment, but he plastered on a grin and waved them in anyway.

"Why, Palmer," Tony raised an eyebrow slyly, "you shouldn't have."

"Shouldn't have…" Palmer looked briefly confused, then chuckled in realization. "Oh, the balloons. These are from Abby. I'm just the pack mule."

He set them down next to the bed.

"SpongeBob?" Tony asked, amusement in his voice as he caught sight of the inflated cartoon character bobbing up amongst normal balloons bearing generic Get Well messages. "Really?"

"Hey, it was either that, or Dora the Explorer," Abby informed him.

"Ah." Tony smirked. "Well then, you chose… wisely."

McGee looked thoughtful as he unloaded his burden on the chair next to Abby. "I know that one. That's a reference to Monty Python, right?"

"_Very_ good, McHolyGrail. I'm impressed."

Abby quickly pounced on the box of soda, popping open a can and downing nearly half of it in one gulp.

"Oh, caffeine, how I have missed thee," she sighed in contentment. "Not as good as Caf-Pow, but you'll have to do for now."

"So, how are you feeling, Tony?" McGee asked.

"Like I got shot," Tony replied, deadpan.

Palmer stifled a laugh as McGee rolled his eyes.

"Gee, really?"

As Abby settled onto the edge of the bed and began chattering away about her new favorite band, Tony smiled and tried to act interested, but truthfully his mind was wandering. Wandering back to Ali, the look on her face when he'd—

No. He didn't regret it.

He couldn't.

* * *

Ali stumbled down the hallway, half blinded by the hot tears of anger, humiliation, and pure misery that streamed from her eyes. It was as though a dam of negative emotions had burst and she was powerless to stop the impending flood.

She hardly knew where she was going; just that she had to get away from there. She had to get out.

People with abandonment issues, with trust issues, really shouldn't go looking for more pain. Rejection hurt worse than simply being alone; she knew this, had known it for years.

And yet, she had once again tried to make a connection, tried to find someone who was supposed to accept her unconditionally, hoping that this time it wouldn't all be thrown back in her face, wouldn't all disappear in the blink of an eye. She had rushed in like a fool, consequences be damned.

Really, she bore most of the blame in this.

So consumed was she in her self-castigation that when she turned a corner and ran straight into someone, she didn't at first realize it was Gibbs, who was followed closely by Ducky.

Both men reached out to steady her before she fell.

Ducky immediately noted her tearstained face. "Why, Alison, whatever is the matter? Has something happened?"

Gibbs felt a sudden anxiety. "Tony— he's not—"

Ali interpreted his broken sentence correctly. "No, Tony's fine." She gave a wretched laugh. "Actually, come to think of it, he's probably doing a whole lot better now that I won't be bothering him anymore."

"Now, why on earth would you think that?" Ducky asked in surprise.

"Ask him. He's the one that said— he said—" she paused, scrubbing desperately at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. "Never mind. It doesn't even matter. I'm not one to stick around when I'm not wanted."

Ducky exchanged a puzzled glance with Gibbs before pulling out a handkerchief and offering it to Ali. "My dear child, whatever he may have said, I can't imagine he meant that you weren't wanted."

Ali took the handkerchief and swiped half-heartedly at her eyes before wadding it up in her hand.

"No, he was quite clear on that point; believe me," she assured them bitterly.

"My dear," Ducky said kindly, "it is obvious to all of us that Anthony cares for you a great deal."

"Could've fooled me." She handed Ducky's handkerchief back to him with one final sniff. "Thanks. I guess I'll see you around. Or not."

"Alison—" Ducky began, but she had already walked away.

Ducky turned to Gibbs. "He did, didn't he, Jethro?" His voice held a note of censure.

Gibbs stared down the empty hall, understanding slowly dawning on him. "Fool her? Yep."

"But, why?" Ducky shook his head in bewilderment.

An exasperated frown on his face, Gibbs' reply was simple. "Because he's DiNozzo."

* * *

Abby was fiddling with the tab on her third can of Red Bull, bending it back and forth until it came off in her hand.

"Huh. I got X again. It's funny, because the only person I know with a name that starts with X is my cousin Xavier, and there is no way I would ever marry him, even though it's actually completely legal to marry your first cousin in Louisiana. I mean, he's totally weird, but not in a good way, more in a sort of semi-creepy way, and he has a goatee, which, granted, isn't necessarily a bad thing, but on him it just looks icky." Here she paused for breath. "You know, that reminds me, Tony, you need a shave. You're all scruffy. Not that I'm saying you look bad with scruff," she put in hurriedly. "Trust me, plenty of girls find that attractive. It's just that it's kind of scratchy when I hug you."

Tony gave her a small smile. "Maybe I'll just let it grow. How do you think I'd look with a beard?"

"_I _think that you would look like a pirate," Ziva interjected as she walked in the door.

"A pirate, huh?" Tony pondered this as he stroked his four day stubble. "Is that good or bad?"

"Hmmm…" Ziva pursed her lips, appearing to consider it for a second. "That would depend."

"On what?"

Ziva just smiled mysteriously before changing the subject. "Where is Ali?"

Temporarily overcome with the irrational thought that the entire room somehow knew what had just taken place between he and Ali, Tony swallowed convulsively.

_Don't be ridiculous,_ he told himself, viciously burying the guilt that was threatening to resurface and spill, unchecked, in open confession. _They couldn't possibly know__. Besides, it's not like I did anything wrong. Not __really._

"She left," he replied shortly.

"She left?" Ziva repeated, looking puzzled.

"Why did she leave?"

"Where did she go?"

Palmer and Abby spoke up at the same time.

Tony gave a huff of annoyance. "What is this, Twenty Questions?"

"We're just surprised, Tony, that's all," Abby told him.

"Did she say goodbye or anything?" McGee asked.

"Not exactly," Tony hedged.

"Look, I'm not her keeper, ok?" he continued defiantly, seeing their openly questioning expressions.

"No one said that you were, Tony," Ziva soothed, attempting to coax down his sudden defensive walls. "We were only curious."

Tony scoffed. "Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition."

"Well, _nobody _expects the Spanish Inquisition," Abby gently teased.

Glowering, Tony didn't acknowledge the quote.

"Are you feeling alright, Tony?" As Ziva spoke, she reached over to feel his forehead.

Tony jerked away with a startled exclamation. "Geez Ziva! Your hands are freezing!"

"My hands are _not_ cold!" Ziva protested indignantly, looking down at the offending appendages. She narrowed her eyes at him almost accusingly. "_You_ are just hot!"

The other three looked at Tony expectantly, waiting for him to take advantage of that opening, but he said nothing, simply continuing to scowl.

Abby thought he looked amusingly like a sulky child, making her want to ruffle his hair, but instead she leaned over to feel his forehead herself. Tony glared, but didn't pull away this time.

Alarmed at the heat that was radiating from him, Abby dropped her hand. "You _are_ hot, Tony. I mean, not like that. Well, I mean, of course like that, because you totally are. Duh. But you're hotter than usual. I mean, hotter than this morning. Oh, you know what I mean. Do you feel ok? Well, of course you don't feel ok, you got shot, but I mean, do you feel sick or anything?"

"I'm fine, Abbs," he told her stonily.

"Tony!"

Abby folded her arms tightly, staring him down. Tony stared right back, being deliberately contrary.

This was what Gibbs and Ducky saw as they walked in the room.

"Ducky," Abby called out, not even turning around. "Tony has a temperature."

"Tattletale," Tony muttered crossly, but he didn't argue when Gibbs ushered the others out of the room.

He didn't argue when Ducky felt his forehead, clucked disapprovingly, and summoned a nurse to take his temperature.

He didn't even argue when, several minutes later, the doctor came in to talk to them. By that time, his exhaustion had overtaken him, and he had fallen into a restless sleep.


	25. Fight Or Flight

**Chapter 25**

**Fight Or Flight**

**

* * *

**Staring up at the ceiling as she lay across the couch in her small apartment, Ali ignored her cell phone as it lit up and slowly danced along the coffee table opposite her.

After her slight meltdown earlier, she had made her way home and cried herself out. Now having worn through her emotions, she rubbed her aching forehead with one hand as she analytically considered her options.

The phone stopped vibrating briefly, then began again for the tenth time in as many minutes. Ali watched dispassionately as it finally it reached the edge of the table and fell to the floor with a small thump. She gave a sigh and leaned down to pick it up.

Six new voicemails; all from Abby.

She sighed again before pressing a button.

Delete.

The mail icon disappeared along with the messages.

* * *

In the hallway outside Tony's room, McGee and Palmer watched as Abby hung up her phone.

"Still not answering?" McGee questioned.

"No." Abby shook her head, her mouth twisted up in a puzzled frown. "I don't understand, McGee. What do you think happened?"

McGee looked across the hall at Ziva, trying to see if she might shed a little more light on the subject being that she was the last to see Ali. However, she appeared to not even be paying attention to their conversation, instead pressing her ear up to the door of the room, shamelessly attempting to listen in on whatever the doctor was saying.

Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Abby. "I don't know."

Palmer spoke up. "Is it just me, or do you guys think that Gibbs and Dr. Mallard know something?"

"What do you mean?" McGee asked.

He shrugged. "Well, just that they didn't seem at all surprised that Ali was gone."

"You know, I think you're right, Jimmy," Abby asserted, with a sudden confidence that McGee envied. "Gibbs will know. And then he'll fix it. Everything will be fine."

* * *

Seeing Tony shiver slightly in his sleep, Gibbs adjusted the blanket, pulling it up and tucking it more securely around his agent. Strange that he should feel cold when the waves of heat emanating from his skin made the ex-Marine cringe. This was the last thing Tony needed to deal with right now, on top of everything else.

He turned as the doctor came in the room. "Well?" he barked, paying no heed to Ducky's reproachful look.

"It seems that Tony's temperature is still rising, despite the broad-spectrum antibiotics we've been treating him with," Dr. Flynn told them.

"Well, _yeah_, Doc. We can see that!" Gibbs retorted, voice dripping with derision.

"Ah, well, yes, of course," the doctor continued, a little flustered. "The main thing we need to be concerned about, of course, is infection, specifically peritonitis, which is the inflammation of the membrane that lines the abdominal cavity. However, Tony's temperature is at 104.6 right now, and that high of a fever in itself can be quite dangerous in adults."

"So what are you planning on doing about it?" Gibbs demanded.

"What Agent Gibbs means," Ducky interrupted smoothly, "is that we would like to know what course of action you've decided on."

"Well, in general, I prefer not to prescribe antipyretics, because pyrexia is the body's natural response to invading pathogens—"

Gibbs was swiftly losing his patience. "In English, Doc!"

Dr. Flynn sighed. "Fever is an immune response that helps the body fight infection," he explained. "In most cases, as long as a fever is not too high, it should be allowed to run its course. But at this point, I'm afraid the danger is greater if we don't treat. If Tony's fever climbs any higher it could cause brain or organ damage or he could possibly even go into convulsions."

Shaken, Gibbs exchanged a worried glance with Ducky.

"So to bring down the fever, we've started him on a drip of Paracetamol," the doctor explained. "We've also upped his antibiotics and his fluids. We're hoping he'll respond fairly quickly and the situation will remedy itself. If not, we may need to open him up again, but that's a worst case scenario. I would really rather not have to do that. It might be too much for his system to handle, weakened as he is right now."

Ducky nodded. "I quite agree."

"We'll be watching his temperature closely tonight." Dr. Flynn turned to Gibbs. "I assume you'll want to stay again?"

"You're damn right," Gibbs replied gruffly, folding his arms as though expecting opposition.

"I can have one of the orderlies bring up a cot, if you'd like," Dr. Flynn offered helpfully.

Gibbs shook his head. "Chair's fine."

It wasn't as if he planned on sleeping.

"Alright. Well, a nurse will be around to check on Tony at regular intervals. I'm on call tonight, so if anything else changes or if he takes a turn for the worse, they'll know how to get a hold of me."

"Thank you, doctor," said Ducky, reaching out to shake Dr. Flynn's hand. "We do appreciate it."

After the doctor had left, Ducky turned back to Gibbs. "Well, Jethro, I suppose I should go let the others know what is going on."

"Duck. Wait." Gibbs paused for a moment, as if not sure of how to ask his question. "How serious is this, really?"

"Oh, it could be rather serious, I'm afraid," Ducky told him, gravely. "A fever this high is never a good thing. But our Anthony is a fighter, to be sure. He's been through worse than this; he did beat the bloody plague, after all. I have no doubt that he can beat the odds again."

After this reassurance, Ducky made his way out of the room.

Gibbs turned back to Tony just in time to see him shivering again, and pressed the call button, intending to have a nurse get another blanket.

"Never do things by half, do you DiNozzo?"

* * *

When Ducky came out of the room, Ziva, who had still been trying to listen at the door, nearly lost her balance. Not at all embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping, she quickly straightened up and addressed Ducky.

"Well?"

The others gathered in to hear as Ducky explained what the doctor had said. His audience reacted with predictable concern even as he assured them that they could do nothing waiting around in the hospital all night.

"It will do Tony no good for you all to sit around here waiting. Far better if you go home and get a few hours sleep. Tomorrow, with any luck, things will look better."

"But—" Abby began to protest.

McGee interrupted her. "Ducky's right, Abbs. Come on, I'll take you home. Palmer, Ziva, do you guys need a ride?"

"No, I'm good," Palmer replied. "I drove here."

"Ziva?" McGee looked around.

The agent in question was not in the hall, having seemingly slipped away at some point during Ducky's explanation.

McGee shrugged, perplexed. "Well, I guess I'll take that as a 'no.'"

* * *

Ziva drummed her fingers on the wall in frustration as she leaned back against the door that she'd been pounding at for the last five minutes.

Despite what Abby and McGee had thought, she actually had overheard their exchange, and upon learning of Tony's condition, had taken it upon herself to go confront Ali.

She rapped loudly on the door again to no avail.

Perhaps the other woman really was not at home.

She made her way down the flight of stairs, then walked around the back of the building as something occurred to her.

Checking the resident parking area, Ziva spotted the familiar green Beetle in its spot.

She felt the hood. Still warm.

Muttering angrily under her breath, Ziva marched resolutely back to the front of the building and climbed the stairs to Ali's door again.

"I know you are in there, Ali!" she shouted, hammering on the door with the flat of her hand.

There was still no answer.

Ziva growled furiously. "Fine!" she snapped. "We will do this the hard way!"

She reached for the tiny lock pick set that attached to her belt and quickly worked through the bolts of the door, then none-too-gently wrenched it open.

As she barged inside, the sight of Ali standing not ten feet from the doorway gaping at her sudden entrance only served to further incense the Israeli.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ziva spat out venomously.

Ali blinked a few times in shock. "Me?" she demanded, outraged. "What the hell is wrong with _you_? You just broke into my apartment!"

Ziva sniffed, unabashed. "Well, I would not have had to resort to these methods if you had answered the door. Or your phone."

"Or," Ali replied pointedly, folding her arms, "you all could have just taken it as a sign to leave me alone."

"And what if someone needed to contact you about Tony? What if something were to happen?"

A look of pain spasmed briefly across Ali's features before she brought it under control, quickly covering up with a perfectly blank expression. "What if it did?" she asked coolly. "What would that have to do with me?"

Ziva ground her teeth wrathfully, trying not to think of all the various ways she could use items in the room for torture and murder.

"Are you really that selfish?" she snarled. "He is your brother!"

Ali gave a scornful laugh. "Just because we share a few genes doesn't really make us family."

Not understanding that Ali was echoing Tony's words from earlier, Ziva crossed the room in two steps and slapped her across the face, her entire body quivering with barely contained fury.

Ali stared back at her, her mouth open in astonishment as her hand went to her reddening cheek.

"How can you say such a thing?" Ziva hissed. "For your information, Tony is one of the most decent, kind, self-sacrificing human beings that you could ever hope to know. He nearly died saving your pathetic life, and now you act like this? I cannot believe that I actually thought I was beginning to like you, or even tolerate you. If you can really be so unfeeling, then perhaps it is best if you get out of Tony's life now. You do not deserve someone like him and he does not need someone like you. He will be better off without you."

Ziva paused for a second, seeing that Ali was still staring in shocked silence, before she continued on in coldly acidic tones. "I can see that I have wasted my time coming here. I should be getting back to the hospital anyway. I only hope that Tony has not gotten worse since I last saw him. Of course, you do not wish to be informed either way, correct?"

Ziva stalked back toward the door, flinging one last barb over her shoulder as she went. "Not even if he should die, hmm?"

She heard a choked gasp behind her.

"Wait!" Ali cried out, her eyes wide with dread. "What happened?"

"Why?" Ziva challenged, not turning around, her hand on the doorknob. "You do not care!"

Ali looked down, her jaw working angrily. "Maybe I shouldn't care. I tried not to. But I do."

Ziva scoffed, and began walking out the door, only to be stunned into immobility by the next words out of Ali's mouth.

"He _told_ me to leave. He said that this wasn't going to work. He doesn't want me there."

Ziva slowly turned, distrust written all over her face. But, meeting Ali's eyes, she saw that the younger woman was telling the truth.

"What? Why would—" she began, shaking her head in bewilderment. "I do not understand."

But then she did understand, suddenly realizing why he must have done it. And of course he would have been extremely convincing. There was a reason Tony was so good undercover. Ali would have had no idea that Tony was actually trying to protect her.

And deliberately hurting her like this so that it would be easier for her, or at least less painful, to forget all about him; the man really could be too noble for his own good at times.

He had done something very similar to this with Jeanne, but she had encouraged it then.

For his own sake of course.

She would fervently deny having had any ulterior motives in that situation.

But this was entirely different. This was his sister. He obviously cared for her already and wanted, possibly even needed that familial bond that this relationship had promised. Yet he denied himself this in order to keep her safe and to assuage his misplaced guilt over the situation.

However, Ziva could not shake the sense that it was more than that.

He was afraid. Afraid of being rejected, so he always made sure to end things first. Afraid of the duties and responsibilities that came with family, afraid that he would fail. Afraid also of the benefits that came with family, of the unconditional love, of the feelings involved. He was afraid, and this fear more often than not triggered his flight instinct.

Ziva understood this fear, possibly more than any other member of Tony's surrogate family. She understood it and knew that it was likely where Tony's deeply rooted defense mechanisms had originated. And she understood this, because in some respects she was exactly the same way.

She had a feeling that only she could talk him down from this.

"I have to go," she said distractedly, making as if to walk out the door before she stopped, once again.

Turning back to Ali, she looked her straight in the eye. "Believe me Ali, he cares for you. After this, I am sure of it."

"What do you—" Ali began, as Ziva hurried out.

"—mean?" The last word sounded into the empty room as Ali looked around helplessly, more confused than before.


	26. Mistakes Are For Making,

**Disclaimer: **Oh, come on. Do I really need one at this point? I only wish these guys belonged to me.

**A/N:** Just wanted to let all you lovely readers know, I have created a formspring account where anyone can ask me questions about my stories or whatever. My username is justhowthisgoes and there is also a link on my FFN profile page. For those who sent me questions last week, I apologize that I just got to them yesterday. For some reason the site hasn't been sending me email notifications that I have questions waiting. So if anyone has any sort of question, I allow anonymous questions so you don't have to create an account to ask me something. Anyway, feel free to ask your questions and when I answer it will be posted for everyone to see. :)

**Chapter 26**

**Mistakes Are For Making,**

**

* * *

**

When Ziva arrived back at the hospital, she did not immediately head inside. Instead, she sat in her car in the darkened parking lot for several minutes, thinking about Tony, of what she could say to him, how she could convince him of the grievous mistake he was making. The man was certainly stubborn, and it was next to impossible to get him to do something he had determined against.

But, of course, Ziva could be just as stubborn. And, say what you will about her judgment on any other occasion; this time, she knew she was right.

As she made her way up to the ICU and then to Tony's semi-darkened room, she stopped in the doorway, taken aback. With her recent discovery, she had nearly forgotten about Tony's rising fever and probable infection. Now, upon seeing him, he appeared to have worsened in just the short time—less than an hour—she'd been gone.

Tony lay against the pillows, looking fragile and impossibly pale apart from two bright spots of color on his cheeks. A fine sheen of perspiration covered his forehead as he muttered and twisted about in his agitated state of unconsciousness.

"How is he?" she asked in a low voice as she stepped inside.

At Ziva's inquiry, Gibbs turned from where he was standing next to Tony's bed. He didn't seem at all surprised to see her there, but then, it took a lot to surprise Gibbs.

"His temperature's still up. Can't tell if the new meds are working yet."

She nodded. "Gibbs," she began, then let out a breath forcefully, uncertain of how to continue.

He looked her in the eyes, seeming to read her thoughts. "You talked to Ali."

It was a statement, rather than a question, but she answered anyway.

"Yes. I thought she… well, I thought..." Ziva trailed off with a sigh. "I was wrong about her, Gibbs," she admitted.

Gibbs said nothing, simply allowing Ziva to speak her mind as she made her way further into the room.

"I was wrong," she said again, coming to stand next to him. She looked down at Tony lying in the bed, oblivious to his surroundings. "Ali is a good person. And I think she and Tony are good for each other, maybe even need each other."

"You think so?" Gibbs' voice was quietly neutral, carefully sounding neither interested nor indifferent.

Ziva nodded slowly. "Yes. I do."

Gibbs gave a noncommittal grunt. "Hmm."

"Did you know that Tony has cut her out of his life?" Glancing up at Gibbs, Ziva correctly interpreted his lack of reaction as affirmation. "Of course you did."

Gibbs just looked back at her.

After a moment of silence, Ziva spoke up again. "Well… what do we do?"

"Do?"

"Tony is making a mistake!" she insisted heatedly.

"Maybe," Gibbs allowed. "But he's entitled to make it."

Incredulous, Ziva raised her eyebrows—and her voice. "So, we should not even tell him that he is wrong?"

Tony's eyelids fluttered in response to her impassioned shout, and he shifted restlessly, mumbling something unintelligible.

Gibbs gave Ziva a reproving glare before pulling her some distance from the bed.

"Didn't say that," he growled softly, once they were just outside the door. "But no one can make this choice for DiNozzo, except DiNozzo."

Ziva sighed in frustration, not wanting to admit that Gibbs was right.

"But, Gibbs—" she protested.

Suddenly they were interrupted by a loud beeping coming from Tony's room. Tony had begun tossing and turning, and he had managed to detach a lead to one of his monitors which was now emitting a piercing alarm.

Gibbs hurried over to the bed, fearful that Tony might do some damage by pulling out his IV or reopening his stitches.

"Tony. Tony, stop."

Tony didn't seem to hear him as he continued to moan and thrash around, his face slick with perspiration. Ziva could just make out what he was saying as he whimpered in distress.

"Please don't leave, Momma. Please don't go. I'll be good."

His anguished cries tore at Ziva's heart, and she found herself thinking of the little boy he must have been when he lost his mother so young. She was even more determined now that Tony needed the family that he did have, needed and wanted them desperately, including Ali, even if he wouldn't consciously admit it, and even if he did, at times, seem to sabotage his own efforts in that area.

"Tony." Gibbs put his hands on Tony's shoulders. "Tony, you need to settle down."

Tony continued to fight Gibbs with surprising strength for a man in his condition, and Gibbs struggled to keep him from hurting himself.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs finally barked, administering a light tap to the top of his agent's head. "Knock it off!"

Tony immediately stilled, going limp against the sweat-soaked pillows.

Before that could give Gibbs more than fleeting worry, though, Tony had opened his eyes a crack, a look of confusion passing over his features.

"Boss?" he questioned in a hoarse whisper, before he was taken over with a brief coughing fit.

"Easy, Tony." Gibbs helped him sit up and Tony gradually got his breathing back under control.

He squinted up at Gibbs. "Boss, you're here?"

"'Course." Gibbs answered. "Where else would I be?"

Tony turned up his lips in a slight smile, closing his eyes again. "Nowhere."

"Got that right." Gibbs said, his gruff tone belied by the affectionate way he brushed back an unruly strand of hair, sticky with sweat, from Tony's fevered brow, as the agent settled back to sleep.

Watching from the doorway, Ziva felt as though she were intruding on a private moment. She quietly slipped out into the hallway, deciding this was as good a time as any for a coffee run.

* * *

As Ziva walked into the room early the next morning, she couldn't help but smile to see Gibbs lightly dozing in the chair to the side of Tony's bed, his head drooping forward as he napped. Several empty coffee cups sat next to him, evidence of the long night—and the fact that Ziva had taken on the unofficial role of his caffeine provider and enabler.

Even taking into account the increased coffee intake and the fact that his late nights were habitually sleepless, spent building boats, Ziva knew Gibbs had to be exhausted by now. He had barely slept a wink since Tony had been shot, and last night was no exception.

Tony'd had a rough time of it, waking every so often, confused and disoriented, sometimes delirious, his body alternately racked with chills and burning up. Gibbs had been there every minute, his mere presence calming Tony and soothing away the nightmares until the fever finally broke and he slept soundly. And only after the doctor had checked in an hour or so earlier and declared the antibiotics to be doing their job and the crisis to be at an end did Gibbs dare to rest.

Ziva didn't want to wake him, but it turned out she didn't have to. The ex-Marine perked up immediately upon smelling the fresh coffee she had once again brought with her, and grunted his thanks as she handed him a cup.

As he sipped the hot coffee, Gibbs stood and walked over to the bed, his joints cracking loudly in protest. Satisfied that Tony was still fast asleep and would be fine for a few minutes while he went to hit the head and stretch his legs, he muttered "Back in a minute," to Ziva and left the room.

Ziva sat down and reached out to take Tony's hand, relieved that it no longer felt so hot in her own. When Tony stirred at her touch she quickly pulled her hand away, but it was too late. Tired green eyes opened and focused on her.

"Hey, Ziva," he murmured sleepily.

"Sorry. I did not mean to wake you. You need your sleep."

"Sleep? Nah." Tony gave a drowsy smile, blinking slowly. "That stuff's… for sissies."

Ziva laughed. "Oh, really? I could have sworn it was you in that bed not five minutes ago, sleeping like a dog. I must have been mistaken."

"It's 'log,' Zi."

Puzzled at the seeming non sequitur, Ziva briefly thought of brain damage, and that thought put a note of concern in her voice. "What is, Tony?"

His eyes sparkled faintly with suppressed mirth. "'Sleeping like a log' is the expression, Zee-vah," he replied.

Ziva frowned, mystified. That couldn't be right.

"But, dogs sleep, and logs do not, yes?" she pointed out. "Besides, I am sure that I have heard some saying about allowing sleeping dogs to rest."

It was Tony's turn to look confused. "Allowing— what?" As his fatigued mind sorted through the mangled idiom, he suddenly broke into a full-fledged grin. "Oh… You mean 'let sleeping dogs lie?' Nothing to do with each other. I promise."

"What about 'dog tired?' Is that related?"

"Huh." Tony considered it. "I don't think so. Neither is dog-eared, sick as a dog, wag the dog, top dog, salty dog, or hair of the dog." He grinned slyly. "But every dog has its day."

Ziva gave a good-natured scoff. "You and your American expressions."

Tony smiled again, then licked his dry lips. Ziva noticed.

"Water?"

When he nodded, she moved to pour some water from the pitcher beside his bed into a cup with a straw, and then helped him sit up to drink.

After he had swallowed a few mouthfuls, he leaned back against the pillows, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"What?" Ziva asked, suspiciously.

"I think you may have missed your calling, Ziva. Could've been a great nurse."

"Really?" Ziva narrowed her eyes. "So, are you saying you think I would look good in one of those nurse outfits?

"Yeah. Well, no! I mean, that's not what I meant. Cuz I know you'd hurt me if I did. Aw, geez, I…"

She folded her arms, watching in mock-stern amusement as Tony desperately tried to dig himself out of that hole.

"Ziva." He looked at her, his expression completely serious. "I almost died, and you're accusing me of fantasizing about you in a nurse outfit? Can't you cut me some slack?"

She nodded, chuckling. "I suppose. But you can be sure it is the closest you will ever come to seeing me in one, so I would make it count."

"We-_ll_," Tony raised his eyebrows, "_someone _has a high opinion of herself."

Ziva smirked. "No. I just know you, Tony."

"You think so? Alright then, oh psychic ninja. Tell me what I'm thinking now," he challenged.

She gave him a cursory glance. "Too easy. You are thinking about what it would take for you to score a sponge bath."

Tony gave a startled laugh. "Ha! What? Ha! No. Nuh-uh. No way. I was _not_ thinking that."

"Would you like me to tell you what it would cost?" Ziva smiled, skimming one finger down his jaw line.

He gulped silently as she leaned her face closer to his.

"If I told you," Ziva murmured directly into his ear, her breath teasing his neck ominously, "I would have to kill you." She patted his cheek as she straightened up. "And that would be a shame, considering what we all just went through, hmmm?"

Tony leaned his head back, beginning to laugh. "Ok, forget what I said. As a nurse, your bedside manner could definitely use a little work."

"And _that_ is why I would never be a nurse," Ziva told him, laughing a little herself. But then she grew serious as she changed the subject. "Tony, I know what happened."

The smile faded from Tony's face. "What do you mean?" he asked evasively, not meeting her eyes.

"Between you and Ali."

"Do you?" he asked, trying and failing to sound uninterested.

"Tony, I understand how you must be feeling about all of this, but cutting her out of your life is not the right decision. I cannot let you just—"

Tony raised his eyebrows. "'Let me?' Oh. Huh. Ok. You know, correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that you didn't even like Ali. So, why all of a sudden do you care so much?"

Ziva sighed. "I was wrong about her, Tony." It seemed easier for her to admit this time. "And I care because I care about you. And I know that you care about her, too. After all, you did this to protect her."

Tony stared at her, surprised that she could see through him so easily, but not willing to admit it. "Is that what you think? And what, pray tell, makes you such an expert?"

"Because that is what you do, Tony! You—"

He held up his hand to cut her off. "Look, I really don't want to talk about it, ok?"

"Fine." Ziva shrugged nonchalantly. "You do not have to talk. Just listen."

Tony set his jaw and stared at the wall. "Not like you're exactly giving me a choice," he muttered.

Ziva ignored this. "Tony, you may feel like this is the only option you have right now, but, trust me, you will regret it. You will regret it if you do not get to know your sister."

When Tony did not respond, she moved into his line of sight, locking eyes with him. "I know this, Tony, all too well. My own sister Tali was killed when she was only 16. It was very sudden, very unexpected, and it took me a long time to come to terms with her death. I regret that I didn't spend as much time with her as I could have." Tears glistened in Ziva's eyes as painful memories were recalled. "I know that I would give anything for one more day with her."

Tony looked down. What Ziva said was making sense, but he had his reasons for what he'd done.

"I'm sorry, Ziva. And I see what you're saying, but it isn't the same. I'm no good for her. I mean, come on, within a week of meeting me, she got kidnapped and terrorized by some sick bastard who was after _me_, who had a grudge against _me_, just because she happened to be there! It's my fault he hurt her. He was going to kill her, and that would've been my fault, too! It isn't _safe_ for her to be near me." Tony sighed, then continued in practically a whisper. "_I'm_ not safe."

Ziva threw her hands in the air in frustration. "So… what, then? You are just going to cut yourself off from _everyone_ now? Because you think you are 'not safe?'"

Tony groaned. "No, Ziva. That's not what I said. Look, we're trained federal agents, alright? Any one of us could be killed out in the field any day. And we know that. We're prepared for it, we're trained. She's not, and there's no way she could've guessed what she'd be getting into, just by walking into my life."

"And what would that be, exactly?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Come on, Ziva. _Everything_ happens to me. It's like I'm some kind of walking, talking, ticking time bomb of bad luck, just waiting to go off at a second's notice. I've been framed for murder, kidnapped, drugged, shot, stabbed, gotten plenty of broken bones and more concussions than I can count; I had the freaking _plague_ for Pete's sake! And before you say that it comes with the job, well of course that's part of it, but you can't deny that the rest of it is all me. Somehow danger always finds me and I end up in the middle of everything. She doesn't need to take that on."

Ziva shook her head. "Tony, it is not your place to make this choice for her just because _you_ feel she would not be safe. It is not fair or right of you. Ali went looking for you, for her brother. She wanted to find you, and she did. She wants to be a part of your life."

"Ziva," Tony gazed up at her earnestly, "if being around me puts her in danger, do you think I'm just going to let her get hurt?"

"But this _will_ hurt her, Tony. Can you not see that? It will hurt both of you."

Tony shook his head slowly. "It's better this way."

"Tony," Ziva said softly, placing her hand on top of his. "Believe me; I understand why you thought you had to do this. But _you_ need to understand something, too. Life is too short to be ruled by fears, whether they are fears for others, or fears for yourself."

"Huh." Tony scoffed. "What do you mean by that? What is it I'm supposed to be afraid of?"

"I think you are afraid of letting people care about you, and afraid of letting yourself care in return. But people do care about you, Tony, and sometimes you need to take a risk and let them inside."

"Ziva, just because I'm not the most open book doesn't mean I'm afraid—" he began.

"I know it is not easy to let yourself be that vulnerable," Ziva interrupted. "And I know you did not have an upbringing that is very conducive to letting people in, but I also know that you can do it if you try."

She glanced at Tony's face, seeing it carefully expressionless, and sighed. "It is alright to need people, Tony. And it is alright to be happy. I know you are not used to having family to count on, but you have an opportunity here and you should not throw it away. Family is like riding a bicycle, Tony; you just have to keep getting back on."

This brought out a small smile from Tony. "Ziva David, boldly going where no mixed metaphor has gone before. And I think that one actually made sense."

The look on Ziva's face though, showed that she was in no mood for his attempt at levity. "Ali will always be your sister, Tony," she told him solemnly. "It is up to you what you do with that."

She stood up to leave. "I will see you later, Tony."

As Ziva walked out, she passed Gibbs on his way back in.

After she had left, Tony looked up at him, a troubled expression on his face. "You know something, Boss? I think I screwed up."

Gibbs eyed him over the top of his coffee cup, already on his second of the morning. He had been outside the door for a few minutes, listening to the end of Ziva and Tony's talk, so he knew exactly what Tony was referring to. "Ya think?"

Tony sighed. "Ok, I _know_ I screwed up." He looked down and swallowed hard. "I don't know how I'm going to fix it, though. I don't know if it's even possible."

Gibbs leaned down, his face level with Tony's, and swiftly brought his hand around to connect with the back of Tony's head.

"Ow!" Tony yelped, more out of habit than anything, as it hadn't really hurt. Gibbs was holding back. "Should've seen that coming," he muttered under his breath.

"I've never known you to back down from a challenge, DiNozzo," Gibbs told him firmly. "Don't start now."

"So, you think I'll figure it out, Boss?" Tony searched Gibbs' face for reassurance.

Gibbs tapped him under the chin, looking him straight in the eye. "I know you will."

* * *

**A/N:** Ok, I'm normally pretty anti-2nd-author's-note, but I just had to say that I would have gotten this posted sooner, but last night, when I was nearly done with this chapter, our water heater decided to break down. And not just break down, but break apart and leak all over the place, apparently. The house was in an uproar, carpets were soaked, and we will have no hot water for the next few days. Lovely. What struck me as slightly, twistedly, amusingly ironic though, was the fact that I had been watching Titanic (You know the scene where Jack is cuffed in the stateroom and it's filling up with water? Yeah, that's the point it was at.) just before I discovered the heater closet full of water. How's that for life imitating art? MLIA


	27. Learning, Forsaking,

**A/N:** Wow I feel like the White Rabbit. Late, late, late. Life and school stuff and other crazy things have happened, and before I knew it, two weeks had passed since my last update. So I buckled down to it today and wrote this chapter. I ended up leaving off earlier than I had planned, just so I could get you guys something tonight, but it isn't terribly short. Hope you like it!

Oh, and here's a promotion that I'm passing along for the 2010 livejournal NCIS fanfiction awards. They are in danger of being canceled and we want as many people as possible to participate, nominate, and vote. Nominations end May 30th, so if you are interested in participating or even just want to check it out, hurry on over there. There are a ton of great stories and it would be a shame if the awards were canceled, so please help us make this happen. Thanks!

community (dot) livejournal (dot) com (forward slash) ncis (underscore) awards

* * *

**Chapter 27**

**Learning, Forsaking,

* * *

**

After Tony's fever had gone down, everything seemed to be getting back to normal. He was moved out of the ICU and the doctors said he was healing well. He flirted brazenly with the nurses and even made a few halfhearted escape attempts to keep up appearances, but when he thought eyes weren't on him he was quiet, reflective, and the team noticed.

McGee and Abby had discussed the possibilities and concluded that it definitely had something to do with Ali. At that point McGee decided to stay out of it and encouraged Abby to do the same, but she'd gotten a dangerous gleam in her eyes when he said she should mind her own business, and he had no doubt that she had gone and done exactly the opposite.

When they went to pick up Tony to bring him home on Thursday morning, Abby surprisingly opted to stay behind. Gibbs had stared at her contemplatively for a second, as if he knew something the rest of them didn't, then assigned her the task of setting up Tony's apartment so it was comfortable and easy for him to get around for the next couple of weeks.

As McGee headed through the hospital corridor toward Tony's room, he bumped into a grandmotherly looking nurse who was just coming out.

"Oh, excuse me," he apologized. He looked quizzically toward the door as a familiar tune came drifting out; the theme song to Gilligan's island. "Is that Tony singing?"

"Tony DiNozzo?" The woman chuckled merrily. "Sure is. He saw my name was Ginger and decided to serenade me. He's not feeling any pain right now, if you know what I mean."

McGee grimaced. Did he ever. The sight of Tony on painkillers was not something people usually forgot about.

"Unfortunately," he muttered.

"What was that?" Ginger asked, not sure she had understood the young man correctly. Her hearing wasn't what it used to be, after all.

"Oh, nothing," he assured her. "Thanks for the warning."

"No problem," she smiled, shaking her head as she continued along her route.

McGee, somewhat reluctantly, stepped into the room and saw Tony seated cross-legged on the bed, wearing the old Ohio State T-shirt and sweats that Abby had brought for him the day before, and beginning a second rendition.

"Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip, that started from this tropic port aboard this tiny ship. The mate was a—" Tony broke off mid verse as he spotted McGee. "Oh, hey there McBuddy, McPal, McAmigo. Did you come to McSpring me?"

By this time, Tony was more than anxious to go home, and he'd made sure everyone around him knew it. Truthfully though, this didn't just have to do with his well known loathing of hospitals, of machines that go beep in the night, of being pricked and poked, monitored and medicated. He was anxious because he knew he needed to talk to Ali. He had to make things right.

He had tried to call once and had gotten her voicemail. He'd left a message—a rather lame, vague one, not really feeling like he wanted to bare his soul over the phone—but he knew he needed to see her in person.

"Gibbs is negotiating your discharge right now," McGee told him.

"Ne-go-shee-ate-ing," Tony pronounced slowly. "That's a pretty funny word, McMIT. Ever notice that? It's like a three-dollar word, at least."

McGee smirked, noting the other man's dilated pupils. "Tony, you're high."

Tony offered him a lazy grin. "Au contraire, mon frère. Did you ever think that maybe _you_ are just _low_? It's all—" here he made a wide sweeping gesture with his hands, "—perspective."

McGee gave an amused scoff. "Alright then. Tony, from my perspective, you're high. As a kite."

"That," Tony pointed his finger emphatically, "is a good point, McPointMaker." He suddenly looked thoughtful. "You know what I've always wondered? _W__hy_ is it considered an insult to tell someone to go fly a kite? Flying kites is fun."

"Well," McGee began to explain, "the phrase actually originated during the stock market crash of 1929. It refers to doing something useless or futile and was meant to—"

Tony sighed heavily, interrupting him. "Ok, McSmartyPants. If I wanted the extended historical version I would've asked Ducky."

McGee frowned, trying to figure out whether he should be insulted at that.

"You know something else I've always wondered?" Tony went on in a serious tone of voice. "It's like, one of the ultimate questions of the universe. What happens," he paused dramatically, "if you choke a smurf? Huh? What color does it turn?"

"I don't know, Tony," McGee replied, shrugging. "I guess it doesn't turn any color."

"Wrong!" Tony announced, triumph in his voice. "See, it's tricky, but I figured it out. It turns blue."

McGee laughed. "Um, Tony, smurfs are already blue."

Tony nodded solemnly. "Exactly."

Giving up on following that logic, McGee simply shook his head tolerantly. "Ok, Tony."

"Know what else is blue? My Jell-O. See?"

Tony reached over to the tray at the side of his bed and picked up a plastic serving cup which was, indeed, full of blue Jell-O.

"It's blue, Probie. B—l—u—e." Tony managed to stretch that one syllable word into four syllables as he insistently held the cup up to McGee's face. "Blue, see?"

Rolling his eyes, McGee pushed it away. "I see that, Tony."

"No, I don't think you do." Tony beckoned McGee closer before informing him in a loud whisper: "It _tastes_ blue, too!"

McGee sighed. "Look, Tony, if you don't want it, just don't eat it. I'm sure a nurse will take it away when she takes the tray."

Tony pulled the Jell-O back possessively, scowling. "Didn't say I didn't want it. It's fun to play with. It's all wiggly and stuff. Watch this."

In the middle of Tony's demonstration of just how 'wiggly' the Jell-O was, Ziva walked into the room.

"McGee," she began, looking oddly on the scene. "What is he doing?"

McGee sighed. "His best imitation of Bill Cosby, apparently."

"Who?"

Tony looked up in exaggerated shock. "Oh, come on. Bill Cosby: great American actor, comedian, and Jell-O spokesperson extraordinaire. Even you should know that."

Ziva cocked an eyebrow. "And what is that supposed to mean? _Even _me?"

Tony grinned sheepishly, sensing danger even in his drugged up state. "Nothing."

"Hmmm." Ziva moved to sit on the edge of his bed, her expression skeptical.

"So, what's the good word?" he asked. "Did Gibbs sweet-talk the doc?"

"Why?" Ziva replied, a hint of mischief playing on her face. "Is the little patient getting a little _im_patient?"

"_Little_ patient?" Tony glared. "Just what is _that_ supposed to mean, Zee-vah?"

Ziva gave a suggestive smirk as she eyed him up and down. "Nothing," she replied innocently.

Tony leaned forward, his mouth open about to protest what she seemed to be intimating, when he saw Gibbs come in silently through the door that Ziva's back was to.

"You two, play grab ass on your own time," he barked. "We're on a schedule here."

McGee snickered into his hand as Ziva sprang up from the bed at the words, but she quickly recovered enough to appear slightly offended.

"So, does this mean I get to go home?" Tony asked eagerly.

"No, DiNozzo," Gibbs deadpanned. "They want to keep you for another week, just because."

"I cannot imagine why," Ziva said aside to McGee.

McGee grinned. "Well, we know it's not his sparkling personality," he replied quietly.

Ziva snorted back her laughter.

"Haha, that's a good one, Boss." Tony suddenly sobered. "You, uh, you are just kidding, right?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Come on, DiNozzo."

Tony grinned. "Knew you had my six, Boss."

* * *

Tony had been left in the capable hands of Abby, who was taking the day off to stay with him. She was uncharacteristically silent, not immediately barraging him with either chatter or her normally predictable hugs and he wondered why. But he still tired easily and after taking his prescriptions with a light lunch Abby had prepared, he soon fell asleep on the couch, an old Western on the TV fading into background noise.

When he woke Abby was sitting next to him, watching him quietly.

"Tony," she began when she realized he was awake, "you wouldn't lie to me, right?"

"Right," he answered, not sure where this was going.

"So, if I ask you a question, you'll answer me honestly."

"Sure."

Abby took in a deep breath. "Ok, the thing is, ever since you talked with Ali on Sunday you've been acting funny. Not like 'haha funny', more like 'weird strange un-Tony funny', and I couldn't understand why. So I did a little digging and I started putting things together and I came to a conclusion. And I- I didn't like that conclusion, I didn't like it at all, so I thought and I thought but I couldn't think any way around it. And I want you to tell me that I'm wrong, but I don't think you can. I know you too well. Tony," she looked him straight in the eye. "Tony, tell me you didn't."

Tony looked down, knowing that she had figured out the truth. She did know him very well, probably as well and as long as anyone had. "Abby…"

The word was answer and apology all in one.

She gasped. "You did! I knew it! Oh, Tony how could you? I mean, I guess I can see _how_ you could, but why? Well, ok, I guess I know the why, too, I mean, I know what you're like Tony, I know you always take on blame that you shouldn't but this time you _really_ shouldn't have."

"Abbs—"

"I am serious, Tony!" Abby stood and began pacing the length of Tony's living room. "You guys can't just- I mean, you can't- you need each other! It's so perfect. You're both so alike; you even look a little alike, but then you're also so different some ways. And she's nice and you're nice and it would all just be really, really nice, you know? And besides that, you're both, like, the only family the other has. That should count for something!"

Tony sighed. "It does."

"Of course it does! Wait… what?" Abby stopped pacing and turned back.

"Just one question though, Abbs. What happened to 'we're your family, Tony'?"

Abby sank onto the couch at his side. "We _are_, Tony," she told him gently. "And we always will be. You know that. Just maybe… maybe you have room for one more."

Tony nodded. "No, I know. You're right. Usually are."

Abby frowned, suspicious of his swift compliance. "You're agreeing with me just like that? It's too easy."

"Abbs, I had already made up my mind." He decided against mentioning that both Ziva and Gibbs had beaten her to the subject and helped him to make up his mind. "Don't worry. I'm going to talk to her. I'll fix it."

"Oh." Abby sat back, the figurative wind swept out from under her sails. "Good. I mean, you know I'd be on your side no matter what, Tony, but I would've been sad if that meant that Ali and I couldn't be friends."

"I never would have asked you to give up a friendship because of me, Abby," Tony protested.

"Oh, I know," she assured him. "But I would've done it for you anyway."

Touched by her loyalty, Tony smiled. "Abby, did I ever tell you you're a good friend?"

She grinned back at him. "Yes, but I don't mind if you repeat yourself."

"Well then, you're a good friend, Abigail Sciuto."

Abby hugged him softly. "You're not so bad yourself, Anthony DiNozzo."

* * *

**A/N:**Ok, so who's excited/terrified for the finale tomorrow night? (If you did not raise your hand or shout 'ME!' just now, go ahead and give yourself a headslap. Unless of course you won't be getting the finale tomorrow in the country you live, in which case, you are exempt. XD)

So I'm writing the end of HTR right now, and I expect there to be two chapters more and probably an epilogue. Although that could change to only one chapter and a long-ish epilogue… I'm not sure yet where I'm going to divide things, but be not afraid, I am definitely wrapping things up.

Please review!

xoxoxo


	28. And Risks Are For Taking

**Disclaimer: **I am the proud owner of... not much. Definitely not this show. Only in my dreams, but I don't think that counts.

So sorry about the long wait, but for some reason this chapter and I did not see eye to eye on things. I changed it and rewrote it several times, but it still didn't make me completely happy, so finally I concluded that the problem maybe wasn't with the chapter, but with me. Anyway, it's now finished (praise be) and it's a really long one, more than** triple** my usual chapter size, so I hope that makes up for it, at least a little. :)

**Chapter 28**

…**And Risks Are For Taking

* * *

**

Tony was going absolutely stir-crazy.

He didn't think he could spend one more day cooped up in his apartment. Sure, he had cinematic entertainment galore available—he had already breezed through the first three seasons of Magnum and was halfway finished with the fourth—and the team had been by as well at times to visit, but as the days of recuperation went by he was becoming restless, and frankly, bored out of his skull.

Part of what was eating at him was that he still hadn't talked to Ali. Joe-the-car-guy had dropped off his precious Camaro earlier in the week, and it was now sitting comfortably in its usual spot, but the painkillers Tony was still taking didn't allow him to drive. Oh, he knew that any one of his friends would have been happy to take him to Ali's place, but he felt like he needed to do this himself.

And anyway, after the way they (alright, _he_) had left things, he thought it would be a little weird just showing up at his half-sister's door. With that in mind he had tried calling again. She hadn't picked up, again, and Tony found that he couldn't blame her.

_If __I__ were in her shoes __I__ probably wouldn't want to talk to __me__ either._

Well, he knew there was one neutral place he could talk to her, one place that she couldn't avoid him. So Wednesday morning Tony got up, got ready, deliberately skipped his medication, and drove himself to the Navy Yard. He knew quite well he wasn't supposed to be back at work yet, but he figured if (alright, _when_) Gibbs had a problem with it, there was always good old rule 18 to fall back on: better to seek forgiveness than ask permission.

He walked into the squad room, grinning like an idiot. He couldn't help it; it just felt so good to be back. Ziva and McGee were both at their desks and, as luck would have it, Gibbs was nowhere in sight.

"Hey guys!" he called out gleefully. "Did you miss me? What's going on? What have I missed?"

His fellow agents looked up from their paperwork, exchanging a knowing glance which said both that they were unsurprised at Tony's appearance (having expected for his hyperactive nature to drive him to test his limits by now), and that they were going to have a little fun at his expense.

Ziva put on her very best thoroughly unimpressed face. "What are you doing here, Tony?" she asked with an exaggerated sigh of indifference.

"Geez, is that all anyone can ever say?" Tony grumbled, pouting slightly. "'What are you doing here?'" he mocked. "Please. Have a little imagination."

"What _are _you doing here, Tony?" McGee pressed. "We know you aren't cleared for work yet."

Tony groaned. "Can't you guys just say you missed me or something? Without the third degree?"

"Alright, Tony." Ziva smiled at him. "We missed you. Or something," she tossed in cheekily. "Now, what are you doing here?"

Tony stuck out his tongue at her before moving on to McGee. "Come on, McGoo," he pestered. "I know _you_ missed me. Admit it."

"If by 'missed you' you mean 'enjoyed a nice, quiet, relaxing week without the usual annoying pain in the ass,' then yes, I missed you, Tony." McGee gave a pleasant, yet purposefully maddening smile. "So much."

Tony scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Probie. Ziva," he turned to the Israeli, whose eyes were glittering with amusement, "I'm disappointed in you. I could have sworn I specifically appointed you to be McGee's temporary pain in the ass in my absence."

Ziva chuckled at this, but was not distracted from her original line of questioning. "Does Gibbs know you are here, Tony?"

"Well, you see, Zee-vah," Tony began matter-of-factly, "The thing is, I'm not actually 'here.'" He grandly punctuated the final word with a set of air quotes.

"Oh, really?" Ziva smirked. "Did you hear that, McGee? Tony is not 'here.'"

McGee grinned back. "Do you think he might have overdone it with the painkillers?"

Tony shot him a withering look. "Haha, you're so clever, McFunnyman," he replied. "For your information, I am here _unofficially_; ergo, not actually here."

"Unofficially?" Ziva inquired idly, appearing bored once more.

"Yeah, unofficially. You know; informally, off the record—"

"Without permission?" demanded a dry voice from directly behind him.

Tony jumped a little as he turned to face the owner of the voice, belatedly remembering that when it came to Gibbs, being out of sight was not necessarily a good thing.

"Um, Boss, I just—"

"—thought you'd try to come back to work before your sick leave was up?" Gibbs finished.

"Well, yeah, I guess _technically_ I've come back to work," Tony hedged, "but I'm not here _to_ work, Boss. Scout's Honor."

Gibbs snorted. "You were kicked out of Cub Scouts, DiNozzo."

"True, Boss, true. But, you know," Tony carried on glibly, "that wasn't completely my fault, or even mostly. I mean, all I did was… well, it's a long story, but basically our troop went to a day camp and it just so happened there were some Girl Scouts there the same day. And one of them, well, Brownie couldn't have described her better. Dark curly hair, chocolate brown eyes, sweet as spun sugar…" He grinned at the memory. "She was an older woman. Eight. She was wiser, more experienced, more mature—"

"I do not doubt that," Ziva muttered.

After sparing her a slightly injured look, Tony continued on as if there had been no interruption. "—and most importantly, she wasn't afraid of frogs, which, coincidentally—"

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Gibbs cut him off again. "Mind telling me what you're doing here?"

"Well, Boss," Tony donned his most charming smile, "you know that I go through withdrawal without your scintillating conversational habits, and—" He winced as the back of his head was swiftly reacquainted with Gibbs' palm.

"Try again."

Grinning again, Tony squinted at Gibbs as he rubbed his smarting head. "Missed those too, Boss."

Over the top of his coffee, Gibbs glared relentlessly until the younger man squirmed under the force of his piercing gaze.

"Well, actually, I just came to see Ali," he admitted.

At these words, Ziva glanced over at McGee, then quickly away, focusing down at her paperwork. She seemed almost nervous for some reason. McGee looked edgy, too. His eyes grew wide and he stammered out "I'm going to go… balance my checkbook," before hurriedly standing up from his desk.

Only Gibbs remained composed, sipping his coffee, eying his agents' odd behavior skeptically. He'd only just come down from talking with Director Vance in MTAC, and thus had no idea why they were reacting so strangely. He took a deliberate step to the side, effectively blocking McGee's way out of the bullpen, and the junior agent sighed, sitting down again in defeat.

Meanwhile, a completely mystified Tony looked back and forth between his coworkers. "Ok. What is going on here?"

The two agents in the know held another wordless exchange, and Tony began to feel distinctly troubled.

"What?" he questioned again. "Come on, guys, tell me what's going on. Is this about Ali?"

"Um, sort of…" McGee dithered, not meeting Tony's eyes. "Pretty much… Yes."

"Well, what is it?" Tony asked. After a moment's hesitation in which McGee was clearly trying to work out what to say, Tony became impatient. "Speak, Probie. Use your words."

"Well, you see—" McGee began.

"To put it in a nutcase," Ziva interrupted, "she is not here."

"Nut_shell_," Tony corrected automatically. "What do you mean she's not here?"

"Well," McGee joked halfheartedly, trying to ease the growing tension in the room, "we don't mean _your_ version of 'not here,' Tony"

"Gee, thank you, Captain McObvious," Tony replied, without his usual sarcasm. Instead, there was a definite, though fairly inconspicuous, hint of desperation. "So, where is she then?"

McGee gave a reluctant shrug. "We don't know, Tony. She, uh, doesn't exactly… work here anymore."

Tony narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Whatever he'd been expecting, that wasn't it. "What are you talking about?"

"She quit," Ziva explained. "Yesterday was her last day, apparently."

"What? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Tony demanded.

"We weren't keeping it from you, Tony," McGee assured him. "We only found out this morning."

"Just a little while before you arrived, actually," Ziva added. "When the new mail girl came by."

"And she didn't say anything? Not to anyone?"

"Who? The new mail girl?" Ziva furrowed her brow in confusion.

"_Ali!_"

"Oh." Ziva looked taken aback at his shout. "I do not think so. If she had told anyone she would most likely have told Abby, and Abby certainly did not know."

Bewildered, Tony leaned back against the edge of his desk and let the information sink in. A million thoughts raced through his mind.

Ali had quit?

Why?

Was it his fault?

_You think?_ some part of him scoffed.

How could he have let it come to this?

But why would she quit, though?

Just like that?

What was she thinking?

What was she doing?

No, with a sudden spark of intuition, he knew exactly what she was doing. She was running; he'd certainly done it enough himself to recognize it.

This whole mess was his fault. He couldn't let her leave because of him, and he especially couldn't let her leave thinking that he hated her. He _had_ to fix this. But was he too late? Was there even anything left to fix at this point? Tony buried his head in his hands. How could he have screwed up so badly?

After a minute he looked up and saw his co-workers watching him carefully. A clear contrast to their earlier teasing, Ziva's dark eyes were wide with compassion and McGee's expression was earnestly sympathetic. But as Tony found the team leader's shrewd gaze, he read a challenge there.

Gibbs' famous gut was telling him he knew precisely what was going through Tony's mind. He had every faith that Tony would do the right thing, but he knew that, sometimes, his senior field agent needed reassurance of the same. So, as their eyes met, Gibbs raised an eyebrow as he cocked his head infinitesimally, as if to dare: 'what are you gonna do about it?'

Tony considered the unspoken question for less than a moment, then stood suddenly, purposefully. He knew what he had to do, and he knew he had to do it now.

As he stepped away from his desk, Tony abruptly realized, with not a little dismay, that he didn't even know where Ali lived.

"I… I don't…" he began helplessly, all at once feeling overwhelmed.

A slip of paper was pressed into his hands and he looked down to see an address printed on it along with directions. It seemed that McGee had anticipated the request before Tony had even come in.

_What did I ever do to deserve friends like these guys? _Tony thought, swallowing hard.

"Thanks, Tim," he mumbled, managing a grateful, though somewhat unsure smile as he trudged out of the squad room.

Ziva stood up as if to follow, but Gibbs caught her by the arm, shaking his head in an emphatic 'no.'

"Let him go, Ziver."

* * *

Inside the elevator, once the doors had closed, Tony pulled the emergency stop switch, halting the car in its downward journey. He leaned against the wall and slid down it, not caring if he messed up his suit.

After the disastrous ending of the movie night that seemed so long ago, but was in actuality not quite two weeks past, he'd completely forgotten about the discarded box of photos on his bedside table. It had greeted him upon his return home, and he'd dug through it and managed to find the photo of himself with Ali's mother. Now he pulled it out of his pocket and studied it.

Frozen in time, Carol Trahey smiled down at a much younger version of himself, her eyes crinkled in laughter at some long forgotten joke, one arm slung warmly over his shoulder. He had been nearly as tall as she then, all skinny arms and legs, a shock of messy hair hanging down in his face as he grinned directly into the camera. He didn't need the caption on the back of the picture; he remembered exactly when and where it had been taken. It had been his twelfth birthday, at Coney Island.

His father was supposed to have taken him that day. Despite growing up in New York, young Tony had never been to the iconic amusement park before, and he very badly wanted to go.

"_Yes, yes. Of course we'll go, Junior. A man only turns twelve once,_" Senior had genially, if absently agreed after being bothered about it by his son for weeks. Tony now believed his father had given his consent at the time only in order to shut him up, though.

Well, if that was his reason, it had worked. Tony had been on his best behavior in the days leading up to his birthday to make sure his father could find no possible reason to change his mind, and part of that best behavior included severely cutting back on his 'incessant chatter,' as Senior called it.

But the afternoon of his birthday, when Tony went to the office at the appointed time to wait, Carol informed him that his father had just been called away on business and wasn't expected to be back until late that night.

Tony remembered that day all too well.

_The twelve year old found that he was not terribly surprised at this turn of events. Goodness knows it wasn't the first time his father had let him down, but up until that point he had still held out hope, and it hurt to be disappointed like this._

_Dejected, his eyes stung and he turned to leave, shamefully blinking back a few tears. He was acting like a baby. DiNozzos didn't cry. Besides, he was way too old to get upset over something as silly as this._

_Then __Carol called him back._

"_Hey," she said gently. "It's your birthday today, right? Were you two supposed to do something special?"_

_Tony was startled by her perceptiveness. And by the fact that she had remembered his birthday when by all appearances his own father hadn't._

"_No, not really," he lied. "It's nothing."_

_At Carol's doubtful look though, Tony gave in and told her of his plans for the day._

"_It's ok though. He probably just forgot." Tony shoved his hands deep into his pockets and scuffed at the floor with the toe of his sneaker._

_Carol nodded__ slowly__, a look of sadness passing over her face that Tony didn't really understand. _He_ was the one who'd been forgotten about, after all._

_Again._

_He looked down and sighed._

"_Well, I'll tell you what." Carol came and stood in front of him determinedly, lifting a hand under his chin so he had to look her in the eye. "I know I'm not your dad, but I've been told that I'm pretty fun to hang out with. That is, if you want to come with me, instead?"_

_Sure that Carol was only offering out of pity, Tony stammered something about not wanting to keep her from her work._

"_Nonsense," she told him firmly. "I can leave a little early."_

"_But what if someone calls or something?"_

"_That's what answering machines are for."_

"_But- it could be _important_." Tony hardly knew why he was resisting so stubbornly. He actually did want to go._

_Carol shook her head in amazement. "Tony, look at me."_

_Tony did as she asked. There was a slight tinge of anger in her voice, but he didn't think it was directed at him._

"You_ are important, ok?"_

_He could tell that she was being sincere, but he wanted to tell her that she was wrong. He wasn't important. If he was, his father would have been there, not off ignoring him as usual. He knew quite well where he stood in his father's priorities. But instead of telling her all this he just nodded._

"_Ok," he said in a small voice. "But you really don't have to take me."_

"_I know that. But I want to. Are you going to spoil my fun?"_

_Tony looked down again, shrugging._

"_Come on, kiddo," Carol coaxed, ruffling his hair. "I want you to have a birthday that you'll never forget." When he still didn't respond she grinned playfully. "I promise we'll have a killer time. It'll be gnarly."_

"_Aw, Carol," Tony whined, ducking away from her hand. "You can't say that."_

"_Chill, dude," she teased, familiar with what was Tony's customary reaction when she used current slang around him. "Don't have a cow. I'm just trying to learn all the new words you kids have these days."_

"_Not cool, Carol," Tony grumbled good-naturedly, loosening up a bit._

"_Not cool? How about 'dope?'"_

"_Nope."_

"'_Fly?'"_

"_No way."_

"'_Radical?'"_

_Tony __groaned in __exasperation, clapping a hand to his forehead. "Alright, alright. If you promise to stop doing _that_ I'll come."_

_Carol smiled in accomplishment. "Well, I guess I'll quit while I'm ahead, then."_

It _had_ been a birthday he would never forget, but it wasn't entirely for the reasons Carol had hoped. They'd had a lot of fun, riding roller coasters and playing games, but when he saw his father the next morning, acting casually distant as usual, as though nothing had even happened, it infuriated him to no end. All of Tony's disappointment and anger at being forgotten—not just that time, but every time it had happened—boiled over into rage. His father had been dismissive, almost amused at his wrath at first, but then quickly lost his temper and snapped back, turning the argument into an all-out blowup.

"_Do you know how hard I work to put a roof over your head and food on the table? And you complain because I missed a silly outing to an amusement park?"_

"_You don't understand!" Tony was so angry he was nearly inarticulate. "You always—"_

"_No, _you_ don't understand__, Anthony__!__ It's as if you expect me to drop__ my work, __my _important_ work to __indulge__ your every childish whim."_

_Tony ground his teeth. "Yeah, right. I'd have to be pretty stupid to expect that! No, I know by now that you always put anything and everything else you possibly can above me and my 'childish whims.' I mean, why should I matter, right? I'm only your son!"_

"_Oh, please, Anthony," his father sneered. "Don't be so melodramatic. You're far too old to be focused on childish things like this anyhow. You'll see when you've grown up some that life isn't as easy as you seem to think. It's not a game. And if you were in my situation, you would do exactly the same thing, I'm sure."_

"_That's what you think!__" Tony answered__, meeting his father's eyes in unbroken defiance__. "I _never_ want to be like you!"_

_His father paused, and then replied carefully. "You had better learn to watch your mouth, Anthony. It will get you in trouble one of these days."_

_The words were said with a strange calm, but his father's eye twitched, a vein pulsing dangerously in his forehead. Tony knew that didn't bode well, and that he really shouldn't take this any farther, but he couldn't seem to stop himself._

"_Mother wouldn't have forgotten about me." As soon as the words tumbled out of his mouth, Tony knew it was a mistake and wished desperately that he could take them back._

_His father advanced on him, a towering giant in his anger. "You leave your mother out of this, do you hear me?" he roared._

_His father was so close that Tony could smell the Macallen 18, stale on the man's breath. As he tried to scramble backwards, to get away, he distractedly thought that drinking before 10 am was never a good sign._

_Catching Tony before he could flee, Senior grasped his son by the collar and shook him._

"_It doesn't matter what you think she would or wouldn't have done," he spat, "because she's dead. She's dead and she's not coming back. And whose fault is that, huh? Not mine!"_

_Tony paled. This was the closest his father had ever come to expressing his thoughts on where the blame for the accident lay._

"_And you had better learn not to cross me, Anthony! I am your father! I brought you into this world; I can take you out of it!"_

_Anthony DiNozzo Senior's face was beyond enraged in that moment. Tony had never seen his father so furious and it frightened him badly. It must have shown, because the next second his father let go of him, shoving him aside unceremoniously._

_Suddenly off balance, Tony fell to the floor. He stayed there unmoving for a long minute, just staring at the carpet, afraid to look up and meet his father's eyes. When finally he worked up the nerve to lift his head, he was met with a strange mixture of fear and loathing in those eyes, and though he assumed the loathing was directed at him, he did wonder what his father could possibly fear._

_Finally his father spoke, in an oddly quiet__ voice.__ "I'll be__ leaving in a few days and __will__ be gone the rest of the summer, but first I'll be making arrangements for you to begin at the Rhode Island Military Academy next month. __Term__ starts August 1__st__."_

_After all this, the news that his father was sending him away to another boarding school, one he didn't even have a choice in this time, and sooner than usual, made Tony see red._

"_I hate you!" he screamed. "I wish you weren't my father!"_

"_Well, we agree on something, then, you ungrateful brat!" Senior slammed out of the room._

Tony shook his head as he came back to himself, the words his father had shouted as he stormed down the hall still ringing in his ears.

"_Mark my words, boy: you will end up in the gutter!"_

In the short time before Tony left for school, he hadn't seen Carol again. Then when he came back briefly for Christmas holiday, he learned from the house staff that she had quit in those late July weeks. He never got the chance to ask his father why (not that he necessarily would have if he could) because at the time Senior was off celebrating a honeymoon with his fourth wife whom he'd apparently met on a ski trip over Thanksgiving. Tony hadn't ended up being introduced to this particular stepmother until just before their divorce was finalized the following August. But that was just life in the DiNozzo household, and Tony found he didn't actually mind it as much when he wasn't living at home.

Tony frowned in thought as a realization suddenly hit him. July 1983 was when Carol had left. And Ali had been born December 1983. Carol would have been a few months pregnant already on their Coney Island excursion.

Picking up the snapshot again, he examined it more closely. Now that he knew what he was looking for, it was actually fairly easy to spot the slight curve to her belly. That was his sister in there, 26 years before he ever met her.

He sat back in awe.

"What do you know?" he mused aloud. "It's a family photo."

* * *

About thirty minutes later, though it seemed much less to him, Tony stood outside of Ali's apartment. He leaned against the doorframe, slightly out of breath. The flight of stairs on her building hadn't looked so long from the bottom as they had turned out to be, and yet, somehow he found himself almost wishing they had been longer. As much as he knew he needed to do this, he was admittedly dragging his feet a bit, not knowing what his sister's reaction would be.

Perhaps skipping his painkillers this morning hadn't been the brightest idea, he reflected. His still tender wound burned a bit from the exertion of the stairs, and he could definitely have used the sense of courage they always seemed to bestow upon him, false though it may have been. He breathed slowly, in and out through his nose, until he felt he had control of himself again, and then knocked on the door.

The knock echoed loudly, confidently, far more confidently than it had any right to, considering Tony's own lack of confidence at the moment. He ran a tense hand through his hair as he stood back and waited, and all too soon, Ali came and opened the door.

As she saw him standing there, a number of emotions took turns playing out across her face. Shock, first of all. A little confusion. Hurt was definitely there too.

"Uh, hey. Hey, Ali," Tony managed lamely, after several long seconds of silence. He tried to smile at her, but it came off more as a grimace.

Ali seemed to misread his look of unease as one of pain. "Are you ok?" she asked, a flicker of what might have been concern shading her eyes.

"Me? Yeah. Super." Just then his side gave another twinge as if in direct defiance of his words. "You know you have a lot of stairs in this place?" _Not enough, though, _he thought._ Or I'd still be climbing._

"Um, I guess." Ali looked at him uncertainly. "There is an elevator on the other side."

"Oh. I didn't notice." _Obviously__. __She can see that, moron._

Ali tore his attention away from his self-critique by clearing her throat. "Look, don't take this the wrong way, but… what are you doing here, Tony?"

Right down to business, then.

He stared at his feet, at the floor, off to the side, anywhere but at her eyes, which were so perplexing to him in their lack of accusation. He didn't realize it until that moment, but he had been expecting, perhaps even hoping for, unequivocal condemnation from her. Now that he found none, he wasn't sure he knew how to proceed.

"Ali, we need to talk," he began.

Ali gave a little nervous laugh. "Wow, déjà vu. You know, the last time you said that—"

Tony winced. "I know," he interrupted hurriedly. "And I know you probably don't want to listen to anything I have to say anymore. But, could I just come in and talk to you for a minute? Please?"

Ali hesitated, her indecision clear, then nodded slowly and stepped aside to let him in.

Inside the unfamiliar room, as his eyes adjusted from the bright morning sunlight, he noticed something that bothered him: along the walls were several cardboard boxes in various states of packing. He nearly panicked—could he already be too late? But then he remembered that she had only moved to D.C. a few weeks earlier; it made sense that she would still be in the process of settling in.

At least, he hoped that's all it was.

Or did he? Maybe it would be better this way after all; a clean break. Maybe it had been a bad idea for him to come here. Maybe he should just learn to leave well enough alone.

_No, maybe you're just being a damn coward, DiNozzo, _he berated himself. _You can't just let her leave, not like this, no matter how easy it would be._

Tony sighed. No. No, he couldn't. He owed it to her to at least _try_ to fix things.

"Tony?" Ali asked apprehensively, and he realized they had been standing there for a minute, saying nothing.

"Um," Tony quickly got his thoughts back in order. "I heard that, uh, that you quit."

"Yes."

Simple question, simple answer. He didn't know why he'd been somehow hoping for more out of that exchange.

Oh, well. He went on.

"You're not thinking of, well, I mean, you're not moving away now or something, are you?"

Ali sized him up warily. "Is that what you want?"

"Well, I—"

"Because you didn't say anything about that before. I know you said the whole 'go separate ways' thing, but nowhere in any of that did you tell me that I was going to have to move." Ali's face began to flush with anger as she went on, scarcely pausing for breath. "I mean, I guess maybe I should have figured out what you meant, but I just barely moved in here, and I haven't even replaced the lamp yet that broke on the way, and I've got to say I'm not really too fond of moving in the first place, although I did lease on a month-by-month basis just in case things didn't work out, but even so, I think it's really mean of you to come here and tell me that I have to move away, especially since you were the one who told me to stay away from you and I was planning on doing just that, you didn't have to come and tell me again, so if that's what you came for then just, just—" she sighed, looking as though she might burst into tears. "Just please go away."

Tony's eyes widened at the mistaken impression he had apparently given. "That's not why I'm here, Ali. Nothing like that. I just, I saw all the boxes, and I knew that you quit, and I just thought… I don't know."

"Oh." Ali blinked rapidly, looking a little surprised. "Sorry. I guess. So why _are_ you here?"

"Well, uh," Tony screwed up his face as he let out his breath in a huff. "See, that's where it gets a little complicated. But, please, could you just hear me out? Then when I'm done, if you want, I'll go. And I won't bother you anymore."

Now Ali looked genuinely curious. "O… k…" she said slowly.

"First, I have to know, though, why _did_ you quit?"

Ali was taken aback by the question, but only for a second. "I don't really know that it's any of your business," she retorted.

"Well, I think it is if you quit because of me," Tony pointed out.

Ali bristled at this. "I don't know where you would have gotten this idea from, but my world," she raised her eyebrows significantly, "does not revolve around you. I mean, if that isn't the most arrogant thing I've ever heard…"

Tony rolled his eyes. _C__an't say anything right__, can I?_ "That isn't what I meant," he said patiently. "I just need to know if it's my fault."

"Your _fault_?" Ali asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Tony repeated. "My fault. _Is_ it my fault?"

Glowering, Ali took a defiant step into his personal space. "I'm a big girl, Tony. I make my own decisions."

Tony held up a mollifying hand. "I never said you didn't. But if it has nothing to do with me, why now, just out of the blue like this, would you quit?"

Ali shrugged angrily, and stepped back, trying for indifference. "This was only supposed to be temporary, anyway. I mean, it's not like it was my end career goal. And, I figured seeing you at work every day didn't exactly constitute staying away."

"So, it _is_ because of me?"

"No," Ali denied, walking away from Tony to the other side of the room. She wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold and sighed. "Well, maybe just the smallest little part," she confessed quietly. "I mean, it definitely helped me realize that I've been basing my happiness too much on things outside myself. You, for one. And it isn't healthy."

"Ali—" he began, stopping as she turned back to look at him.

"Mostly, though, I did this for me. I have a friend from college who works at a local news station about 20 minutes from here. I called him, and he managed to get me an interview for an entry level research position."

Tony smiled. "That's good. Good for you."

"Yeah, I guess," Ali sniffed. "I mean, it's nothing glamorous, and it isn't my dream job, but it's at least in the same field and I can always work my way up once I get more experience. It's a risk, but sometimes you've just got to give it a shot, you know?" she peered up at him from beneath her lashes with an inscrutable expression.

Tony stared at her contemplatively. A comfort zone was a safe place to be, and that's where he was at.

"But risk must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing," he murmured, remembering that quote from somewhere.

"What?" Ali asked.

He heaved a sigh, his mind made up. "Ali, I'm an idiot."

The corners of her lips turned up faintly. "Not that I disagree, but, just so we're on the same page, what _exactly_ are you talking about?"

"Look, I was a jerk, and I was stupid, and I should have never said those things."

Ali looked very vulnerable as she asked simply, softly, "Why did you?"

"I, well, I don't know if I can explain exactly why." Tony ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

Ali bit her lip, clearly not satisfied with his answer. "It's ok," she said finally.

"No," Tony said in frustration. "No, it's not ok, Ali. It's not. I hurt you. I mean, I was trying to keep you from getting hurt, but I ended up hurting you in the process. And I'm really sorry for that."

Ali looked puzzled. "What do you mean you were trying to keep me from getting hurt?"

"I mean just that. You know, this entire thing was my fault." Tony gestured at her splinted finger. "Every injury you got, everything he did to you, the very reason you were kidnapped, was because of me."

Ali unconsciously raised her hand to the not quite vanished bruise across her cheekbone. "Are you trying to say that you feel responsible for what happened?"

"Do I feel responsible for what happened?" Tony let out a hollow, sarcastic laugh. "Ali, I _was _responsible. If I hadn't been so careless it would never have happened. Basically, I screwed up big time, and you ended up paying for it."

"But Tony, you saved me," she said, confused.

"Well, yeah. I mean, it was the least I could do, being that I caused the whole damn thing! He should have never been able to take you, not right from under my nose. I should have done something, should've protected you better."

"Tony—"

"I should never have let it happen," he said determinedly.

"It wasn't your fault, Tony."

Tony laughed cynically and turned partly away from her, clenching his fists. "You know, I've heard that before, but there's no one else to blame, so…"

"Tony, you didn't _let_ that psycho kidnap me any more than I did. And you didn't _let_ him hurt me either. He did all that himself."

"But I still should have—"

"Should've what?" Ali demanded. "I'm fine, ok? And you know what? If you're so eager to take blame for something, take blame for that. That _is_ your fault. I mean, if you hadn't shown up when you did, he, he would have…" she bit her lip nervously. "He said he was going to…"

Tony turned back suddenly, the fear in his expression telling her that he understood what she _wasn't_ saying. "He didn't…"

"No," she reassured him. "He didn't get the chance."

Something dangerous took over Tony's expression and a muscle in his jaw jumped tightly. "If I hadn't already killed that bastard—" he growled.

"But you did," Ali interrupted him, stepping closer and laying a soft hand on his arm. "You _did_ kill him. You _did_ protect me."

Tony shook his head stubbornly. "Doesn't change the fact that I'm dangerous to be around. You deserve better."

"Tony, you're not dangerous. You're my brother."

Despite himself, Tony grinned at this.

"What?"

He shook his head, chuckling. "Oh, nothing. I just had this weird vision of the whole gang singing 'He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother' onstage like the Osmonds back in the day, shiny 70s jumpsuits and all."

Ali stared at him for a second before she started giggling. "Am I sensing a karaoke night in the making?"

Tony threw his head back and laughed. "Wouldn't that be a sight? Abby would do it for sure, Palmer and Ducky are good sports, and we could maybe blackmail McGee into it. I don't know about Gibbs though. What do you think?"

Ali's giggle turned into a snort at the thought, and pretty soon they were both howling.

"Can't you… just imagine that?" Ali managed, between peals of laughter.

"Only if… I picture him… with his old mustache," Tony snickered.

"Agent Gibbs? With a mustache?" Ali shrieked.

"Yep."

This set them off once more.

"Stop! Stop!" Tony finally gasped. "I think I'm gonna pull a stitch!"

Ali sobered immediately. "Sorry."

Tony hurried to allay her concerns. "No, it's ok. I'm almost good as new. Well, as 'good as new' as someone as old as me can be, at least," he grinned.

Rolling her eyes indulgently, Ali shook her head. "You're not that old."

"Feels like I'm getting there, though. I mean, last time I was shot, I—"

"You've been shot before?" Ali asked, surprised.

"Well, not quite as seriously, but yes. A couple times. Although never with my own gun. That's a first. Huh," he mused. "Come to think of it, I bet I've screwed up some sort of statistic about LEOs getting shot with their own weapon. Though, it was my backup, so I don't know how that would factor in. Hmmm..."

Ali looked upset as she twisted a strand of her hair.

"Ali," Tony said gently, noticing her expression, "I'm a federal agent. That kind of danger comes with this job. That's part of what I've been trying to tell you."

"I know that. I mean, I thought I knew. I guess I just didn't realize what it meant exactly until I saw it for myself." She looked up, meeting his ocean green eyes with her own, nearly identical. "It was scary though, you know? In the factory."

Tony sighed. "Ali, I can't tell you how sorry I am that you had to go through that. He would never have been able to take you if I hadn't let my guard down."

Ali glared at him. "That isn't what I meant. That was scary too, but I was talking about after that. You were laying there on the floor, Tony. Bleeding. I mean, there was just so much blood. I thought you were going to bleed to death right there and I didn't know what to do. And then," she swallowed hard. "And then you stopped breathing and Agent Gibbs had to do CPR, and I was just- I couldn't- I didn't- Tony, I've never been so scared in my life," she confessed, sniffling.

Tony put a tentative arm around Ali's shoulder. "Hey, shh, it's ok," he soothed. He looked at her compassionately. "I thought it would be better if you didn't have to be exposed to all of this. Better for both of us, really. You would be safe, and I… I wouldn't have to worry about you leaving because you decide that I suck at this family thing."

Ali looked up. "Tony you don't s—"

"You don't know that I won't. Hell, I don't even know that. I never had what you could call a great family life growing up. I was an only child, raised by nannies and boarding schools. I always was jealous of other kids who would go and do things with their families. I never had that. I mean, I went on a business trip with my— well, _our_ dad. Once. And, well," Tony gave a short, humorless laugh, "he forgot me. Left me at the Hilton in Maui. He didn't even realize I was missing until he got the bill. I don't know a thing about what real families are supposed to be like except…"

"Except?" Ali prompted.

"Except what I know from the team. I mean, they _are_ my family. Or the closest thing to it. Closest thing I've ever had, at least."

Ali nodded. "Yeah. I can tell that you guys are really close."

Tony cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable with the serious silence that had begun to fill the room. "So this whole brother/sister thing, what do you say we give it another shot?" he asked. His expression was a little guarded, but he couldn't—or maybe wouldn't—hide the hope in his voice.

Ali looked up at him for a long moment, her eyes shining as a smile grew on her face.

"I think it's worth the risk."

* * *

**A/N:** Well, here we are at the penultimate (I sort of love that word, don't you? Ever since Lemony Snicket… but I digress.) chapter to How To Relate. I expect to have the ultimate (Heehee. I like that one too. My chapter is _ultimate_!) chapter up within a week or so, and a brief epilogue shortly thereafter.

So, I've decided I _will_ be writing a sequel to this story, but I plan to write the majority of it before posting, that way if (more like when) I get busy during the school year I can keep up with a regular posting schedule and you guys won't have to wait long stretches between chapters. At this point it is mostly a team/case fic, slight emphasis on Tony (I can't seem to help myself, lol), and explores the sordid world of political intrigue and corruption in Washington D.C. (Note: any similarities to real life that may be recognized, well, _hello,_ it's D.C. ;P I'm not basing plot on anything that I know of that has actually happened, but they're politicians, ok? Inevitably something that I write about will have some similarity to some scandal somewhere at some point in time, but I assure you, it is purely coincidence. XD)

**P****.****S****.** Bonus points for those who can guess my interpretation of the reason for the fear and loathing in Senior's eyes in the flashback. I tried to imply it, but I'm not sure how well I did, so let me know! :D Please review!


	29. Back In The Swing Of Things

**Disclaimer: ***Disclaims*

**Chapter 29**

**Back In The Swing Of Things  


* * *

**

Mondays.

Garfield hates them.

As do many, many others.

And while there was certainly something to be said for reacting with dread toward the start of another workweek, Tony was sure he would never feel that way about this particular day again. For Monday was the day that Gibbs had said he could come back to work, provided, of course, that Ducky agree and sign off on it.

That little stipulation had slowed him down for approximately one second.

He'd gone straight into persuasive-Tony mode, begging, cajoling, and pleading, offering to prove his fitness in any of half a dozen ways, until Ducky had finally declared him fit to return back to work.

In truth, the ME had been worn down by the younger man's constant harassment, and, while he was of the opinion that Tony should not be back at work quite yet, he knew it might actually be for the best. He and Gibbs could keep a better eye on the senior field agent at the Yard, and if left alone for much longer, Tony would almost certainly drive himself—or else the rest of them—crazy.

"Stubborn man," he muttered as he signed the release forms Monday morning. "I do expect you to still take it a bit easy though. Light duties only, for at least the rest of the week."

_Desk work, ugh,_ Tony thought, with momentary misgivings. Nevertheless, he simply smiled winningly and replied, "Sure thing, Ducky."

"And you are to take your medications until they are gone. _All_ of them," he clarified sternly, sealing off the possible loophole before it could fully materialize. "Am I clear, Anthony?"

"Practically transparent," Tony answered promptly, barely able to hold in his anticipation as he impatiently shifted from one foot to the other and back again.

Ducky eyed him skeptically. "Yes, well, I suppose you'd best be getting these forms to Gibbs and the Director."

Tony fairly beamed. "Thanks, Ducky!" he called as he bounded out of autopsy.

On his way through the doors, he bumped into Palmer.

"Hey, Palmer!" he called cheerfully, not stopping. "How's it going? I forgot to ask, did you ever get a date with that blond babe? Well, I've got to run. Catch up with you later!"

"Um, hi, Tony. Bye, Tony." Palmer was left waving at the closing autopsy doors.

"Ah, Mr. Palmer. Right on time. We have a Petty Officer Lanaghan who requires our services this morning." Ducky went on speaking as he made his way over to the body drawers on the other side of the room and pulled one open. "His case reminds me of an incident that I came across in Singapore once. A young man was killed in a rather unfortunate and gruesome motor boating accident, or so it appeared at first."

Palmer moved to help his mentor get the body onto a cold table as he continued with his story.

"One leg had been completely severed from his torso by the blade of the motor, you see, and it seemed reasonable to assume that the poor man had bled to death. However, as it turns out, he had succumbed to the venom of a rare water snake before ever coming into contact with the motor."

"That's very interesting, Doctor Mallard."

"It was indeed. Particularly because water snakes are only mildly venomous, barely harmful to the majority of the population. It seems that this young man was allergic to the specific toxin contained in the venom, though likely he never knew it. Quite unlucky for him, in any case. Well, Petty Officer," Ducky turned to address the body in front of him, "we shall soon find out if anything so interesting was at play here. Though I rather doubt it, being that there were several witnesses to your own unlucky demise."

* * *

Tony dashed down the hall with a whoop of pure glee. Deciding to forgo the elevator, he instead took the stairs two at a time. As he stepped out of the stairwell into the squad room, he took in a deep breath and let it out audibly, effectively announcing himself to those that (unbeknownst to him) were awaiting his arrival.

"Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony, TONY!"

From the direction of the bullpen, a blur of black pigtails and white lab coat rushed out and flung itself at him, squealing in delight. Grinning, Tony dropped his bag and held out his arms for his favorite flying Goth.

"Oof!" He let out an exaggerated groan as he caught her, stumbling backwards a couple of steps to keep his balance.

"Oh no, Tony, did I hurt you?" Abby asked in alarm, pulling back slightly to see the pained expression on his face.

Tony chuckled. "No, you're fine, Abbs. Barely felt a thing."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Honest?"

"Honest," he assured. "Cross my heart."

"Good," Abby beamed, detangling her legs from his waist and hopping down from her perch. "So, are you back now? Did you see Ducky? Are you clear for work yet?"

Picking up his bag, Tony continued toward the bullpen. "To answer your questions in their respective orders: yes I am, I most certainly did, and clear as a picture window that's been cleaned with Windex and polished till it squeaks. What the…"

Tony had rounded the corner and reached his desk. Festooned as it was with ribbons and various hand-drawn decorations, it was barely recognizable _as _a desk.

"Do you like it?" Abby asked hopefully.

"I'd answer that carefully, Tony," McGee chimed in as he and Ziva walked over from her desk to join them. "She came in freakishly early to do this."

Tony gently tugged one of Abby's pigtails. "I love it, Abbs," he told her sincerely.

Abby clapped her hands together. "Yay! I'm so glad! And I'm glad that you're back. I missed you, Tony!"

Tony laughed. "Abby, you just saw me yesterday."

"I know, but that doesn't count. You weren't here. I missed you being _here_."

"Well, I'm here now."

"You are still on desk duty though, yes?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah," he nodded. "For the week."

"That sucks, Tony. No field work for a week? Are you sure you can handle that?" McGee teased, smirking.

"What are you talking about, McSmug?" Tony scoffed. "I am absolutely fine with riding a desk for a week. I love the smell of paperwork in the morning."

McGee grinned. "Sure you do, Tony."

"Oh, come on. You didn't get that? Anyone? Come on, Robert Duvall? _Apocalypse Now_?" Tony shook his head sadly. "Hopeless, all of you."

McGee shrugged. "Well, if we're hopeless, what does that make you? You know what they say: birds of a feather—"

"Ooh, I know this one!" Ziva called out excitedly. "Birds of a feather can be killed with one stone?"

Tony winced. "Close, but no cigar. Kudos for the slightly disturbing imagery, though."

Ziva frowned in confusion. "Cigar? Why would I want a cigar? I find smoking to be a disgusting habit. And very unhealthy, as well." She looked around as the other three began to laugh. "What?"

As Abby explained Ziva's misunderstanding to her, McGee turned back to Tony.

"Seriously, though, it's good to have you back, man," he said quietly.

Tony smiled. "Thanks, Probie." Then suddenly he glared. "You wouldn't happen to have an ulterior motive for getting on my good side, would you?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know. Like, you liking my sister? Something like that."

McGee sighed. "Well, since you brought it up, I sort of asked Ali on a date. For this Friday. And she said yes."

Tony stared at McGee long and hard, and for a second McGee had the absurd notion that his friend was going to turn into a crazy overprotective older brother and hit him, despite the talk they'd already had about this. Then Tony relaxed, breaking into his famous DiNozzo grin.

"Took you long enough, Tim. Just promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"I get to be the best man at your wedding."

Now it was McGee's turn to stare at Tony. His eyes gave no indication that he was kidding, but with Tony sometimes it was hard to tell.

"Neither of you are going to live long enough to have a wedding, if you don't get to work right now," Gibbs warned, suddenly standing a foot away from the two.

"On it, Boss," they chorused together, each heading for their own desk.

Gibbs stuck one arm out in front of Tony, the one he wasn't using to carry his coffee, and stopped him. "Not so fast, DiNozzo. Got those papers for me?"

"Yeah, Boss. Right here." Tony handed him the forms Ducky had signed.

"Good," Gibbs said gruffly, taking them and turning to go upstairs to give the Director his copy. "Sit. Work."

Grinning again, Tony complied. But before he began to work, he pulled out the (now framed) photo of himself with Carol Trahey and set it on the corner of his desk. Well, it was a copy of the photo, actually. He'd given the original to Ali.

Tony remembered how his sister's eyes had lit up upon seeing the picture of her mother and smiled fondly.

"Tony," Abby's voice interrupted his musings, "you have missed so much these past few weeks. I am never going to be able to catch you up on all the scuttlebutt around here."

Tony raised his eyebrows in challenge. "Try me."

"Ok, well, first of all, you know Chloe from the HR department? Well, you will not believe what happened between her and her boyfriend down in accounting last week. See, they were—"

As Abby balanced on the edge of his desk, filling him in on the latest office happenings, Tony quickly crumpled a sheet of paper into a ball and lobbed it at McGee. McGee shook his head, hiding a grin, and across from Tony, Ziva smirked as she watched out of the corner of her eye. Abby took no notice of any of this, simply swinging her legs as she chattered on, and Tony leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head with a sigh and a smile.

Gibbs watched all of this from his vantage point up on the mezzanine outside of the Director's office.

It was good to have his team back to normal.

Well, as normal as it ever was, anyway.

* * *

**A/N:** And… Th-th-th-that's all folks. The end. End comma the. Well, except for the epilogue. Which will be up within the next couple of days. :D

Review, review, review. Please?


	30. Epilogue

**A/N:** Totally would have had this up sooner, but I've been distracted by Lego Harry Potter and my new job. Shame on me! But it is super fun! The game, not the job. Though the job isn't bad, either. Just a lot more hours than I'm used to (which is none).

And just so you all know, last chapter was really the 'official' end to HTR. This epilogue is more getting into the new story, a little bit. Sort of a bridge, I guess. Or half of one. Luckily, once I had finished this epilogue I was able to write the other half of the bridge (the prologue of the sequel), so rest assured it is coming along swimmingly. :D

**Epilogue

* * *

**

It was Friday evening and the MCRT was working late, finishing up the case they had caught earlier that week. It was a fairly open and shut end to a string of break-ins on base housing; fingerprints were found on a tool discarded at the most recent scene and the man they belonged to was picked up and hauled in for questioning, a rapid confession following when he was faced with the evidence of his crime.

Now all that was left at the end of this long day was for the team to finish their reports in order to close the case and be set free for the weekend.

Gibbs left the squad room to refill his coffee after his caffeine-deprived growls became more surly than usual.

Tony pinched himself to keep from nodding off again as he sat at his desk in front of a tall stack of paperwork.

Ziva rubbed the sides of her head with her palms as she squinted at her computer screen through a tension headache.

And McGee whistled cheerfully, his fingers clattering away nimbly on his keyboard.

"Why is McGee in such a good mood?" Ziva wondered aloud, turning to glare at him across the room.

Tony looked up and chuckled at her obvious annoyance. "You don't recognize that look, Zee? McRomeo has a date tonight."

"Ah." Ziva smirked knowingly. "That is right, I had forgotten."

"Though he could've chosen a less irritating tune." He got up and walked over to McGee's desk to get his attention. "Hello. Earth to Tim. What is that anyway, McClassical? Ride of the Valkyries?"

McGee looked surprised as he stopped whistling. "How did you know that, Tony?"

"Please, Probie," Tony scoffed. "That song is in so many movies it isn't even funny."

"Figures." McGee shook his head as he flipped open his PDA to check his text messages.

"Uh-oh, what time were you supposed to meet Ali, McTardy?" Tony asked. "Is she going to think you're standing her up?" He clicked his tongue sorrowfully. "She'll be angry. And you won't like her when she's angry."

McGee rolled his eyes. "She's not angry, Tony. I've explained that we're working a little late and so she's meeting me here instead."

"Oh. Well that's good. You don't want to screw up your first date."

"Why, because you'd make me regret it?"

"No." Tony shook his head solemnly. "_She_ would."

"Well, I think that if I told her that you just compared her to the Hulk, however obliquely, she might be a tad more upset at you than at anything I could do in comparison," McGee countered.

"That's blackmail," Tony said, his tone oddly admiring. He sniffed and wiped away an imaginary tear. "My little Probie's growing up."

McGee opened his mouth to reply with a sarcastic comment, but Ziva, who had been watching their back and forth with some amusement, interrupted him.

"I am surprised you are not giving McGee a harder time about this, Tony. About dating your sister. You truly have no problem at all with it?"

"Are you kidding?" Tony laughed. "If he _hadn't _asked Ali out by now, I'd have to take away his man card."

Ziva looked puzzled. "What is a 'man card'?"

"It's a… well, it's pretty much…" Tony scratched his head, trying to think of how to explain it.

"The requirement to be accepted as a respectable member of the male community. Can and should be revoked by other respectable males for doing non-respectable-male things."

Ziva, Tony, and McGee turned to see Abby walk up.

"Urban Dictionary," the forensic scientist explained, waving her cell phone.

They all stared at her, their expressions incredulous.

"What?" Abby shrugged. "There's an app for that."

"Well," Ziva sniffed, turning back to Tony, "this 'man card' is a ridiculous concept. Still, I was under the impression that men usually did not want their friends to date their sisters."

"Well, generally that's true," Tony admitted. "I mean, if it were one of my frat buddies, you'd be absolutely right. But this is _McGee_ we're talking about. Completely different story."

McGee grinned. "Glad to hear that I have your approval, Tony."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony grumbled. "Don't let it go to your head."

A teasing voice came from behind them. "You know, I've never had someone to screen my dates before. I think I could get used to it, though."

Tony spun around to greet his sister, though as greetings go it was rather lacking. "Whoa, where did you come from?"

"Well, you see, Tony," Ali began airily, "when a man and a woman love each other very much…" she trailed off with a laugh as Tony gave her a look. "Oh, you mean just now? Well, I was already on my way here when I got Tim's text. I wanted to tell you all in person."

"Tell us what?" Tony asked.

"I got the job at the news station!" she announced, smiling hugely.

Abby bounded over and hugged Ali excitedly. "Oh, that's so awesome, Ali! And you're going to be so good at it, too!"

"Aw, thanks, Abby," Ali said as she hugged her friend back.

"Congratulations." Ziva gave Ali a small smile which she returned, both women awkwardly remembering their last encounter.

"Thanks, Ziva," Ali replied politely.

Tony grinned. "Just don't forget all of us little people when you become a famous news anchor or something."

Ali laughed. "Don't worry. I think this past month has been much too memorable to ever worry about that."

"Well, I guess our date is going to be part celebration," McGee said, checking his watch. "I'm finished with my report, so we can leave soon. I think we've probably lost our reservations by now, though."

"Oh, it's not a big deal," Ali assured him. "I'm sure we can get in somewhere."

"Great." McGee smiled, offering his arm to her. "Shall we go?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Tony said, stepping in between them. "Hold on there. Wouldn't you two like to hear my last words of advice?"

"Not if you're going to say 'I know where you live' or 'You better have her home by midnight' or something like that," McGee scoffed.

Tony laughed. "Oh, ye of little McFaith. Of course not. Ali can take care of herself. She's a big girl, like she keeps telling me."

"I tie my own sandals and everything." Ali gave a sidelong glance to Tony. "Hercules," she explained.

"Disney?" Tony held out his hand for a high five. "Good one. Obscure."

McGee looked back and forth between the siblings, bemused.

Tony, seeing this, laughed gleefully at his friend's expression. "Are you wondering what you've gotten yourself into, Tim? She is a DiNozzo, after all. Well, not in name, perhaps, but in nature, oh, it's definitely there."

McGee grinned. "Well, Tony, I doubt you've had time to fully corrupt her. Besides, I've managed to work with you all these years and not been driven to murder so far."

"This is true, Ali," Tony told her, his face absolutely straight. "He has the patience of a saint. And it's actually quite fun to try that saintly temper," he continued. "You can make a game out of it, see? Be as annoying as possible and see how long it takes until Saint Timothy breaks. There's actually a weekly office pool and I—"

Ali reached over and swatted her brother on the arm.

"Be nice," she admonished.

"I am nice," Tony protested. "In fact I usually bet on his long-suffering… ness. Come on, Ziva, Abbs, back me up here."

"Sorry, Tony." Abby shrugged. "I'm staying out of this one. I've given up gambling for Lent."

"Abby," Tony said in confusion, "Lent isn't for months."

"Oh, I know," she assured him earnestly. "I'm practicing."

Tony shook his head indulgently. "Ziva?"

"It is true," Ziva granted. "He has made quite a bit of money off of you, McGee."

Tony glared at the Israeli as she smiled at him angelically. "Not exactly what I meant by 'back me up', Zi."

"What? It is not my fault that this talk has reminded me that you still owe me five dollars." She held out her hand expectantly.

"Ziva, Ziva, Ziva," Tony tsked, shaking his head. "This is hardly the time for money-changing. Can't you see that I'm trying to bestow some words of wisdom on my sister and my subordinate?"

"Oh, of course, Tony," Ziva smirked. "Bestow away, by all means."

"Sometime before I'm too old to date, would be nice," McGee added.

Ali elbowed him in the side, not hard, just as a warning that he was expected to be nice, too, and McGee mouthed an apology at her.

"Too old to date?" Tony laughed. "You better not let Gibbs hear you say that. He might think you're talking about him."

"Too old to date, am I?"

Tony jumped. Gibbs had come back silently from his coffee run, and his expression gave no indication whether the caffeine had yet had an effect on his mood.

"Ah, no, Boss. Of course not. I was just explaining to McGee here, who seemed to doubt it, that you are most certainly still in the game."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows as he sat back at his desk. "Didn't know you cared, McGee."

"Boss, I didn't- Tony- he-" McGee groaned. "Never mind."

To Ali he said, "Ready to go?"

As they picked up their things and began to leave, Tony grinned merrily. "Well, you kiddies have fun tonight. And for the obligatory 'big brother speech', I guess I just have to say, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

McGee snorted. "Like _that_ narrows it down. See you all Monday."

Tony watched reflectively as McGee and Ali got into the elevator and headed down.

Ziva came up beside him. "One cent for your thoughts."

"Penny," he corrected. "I was just thinking, well, they do make a good couple, don't they?"

"I suppose," Ziva said thoughtfully. "Ali was certainly nicer than she had to be, considering the last time I saw her, I slapped her."

Tony turned to her in surprise. "You what?"

"Slapped her," Ziva replied, very matter-of-factly.

"May I ask _why_?"

"'Do not assume', yes? Well, I broke that rule."

Tony blinked in confusion. "Ok, but you- Wait. Do I really want to know?"

Ziva shrugged. "Probably not."

Tony shook his head. "As you wish."

Abby came up behind them, putting an arm around each of their shoulders.

_Hmm… _she thought. _I wonder if Tony and Ziva have__ heard about a__ certain __other office pool__ that concerns them…

* * *

_

At that moment above them, Director Vance was just coming out of his office when his cell phone rang.

"Vance," he answered casually, not bothering to check the Caller ID. Then the next second, he had snapped to attention, quickly pulling his toothpick out of his mouth as he listened intently to a voice on the other end.

"Sir… Yes, sir… Yes, _sir_… Of course, Mr. Secretary… Yes, sir… It will be handled with the utmost discretion, I assure you… I'll get my best team right on it… Yes, sir…"

* * *

**A/N:** And now, at the completion of this story, my very first fanfic, my very first fictional story of any kind as a matter of fact, I find myself feeling a bit like Sally Field.

*sobs tears of joy* "You like me. You really like me!"

When I first started this story back in December, I had no idea of the response I would get. Now at nearly 80k hits and over 500 reviews, I have to tell you I am truly honored and touched and maybe, just maybe, a little more confident in my skills as a writer. In fact, over the course of writing this story, I came to a decision of what I want to be when I grow up. Well, with me it's really more of an 'if' than a 'when', (I'm such a kid) but the point is, I'll be going back to school this fall, and I've decided study writing and film. And hopefully one day I'll become a *_dundunDUN_* scriptwriter! Ya know, for TV shows and stuff? XD And y'all are my inspiration. Because this many people can't be wrong.

Well, ok, maybe they can. I mean, I'm sure there are at least as many politicians in the world as there are readers for my story. ;) But in this instance, I choose to believe they (you) are not wrong.

Until next time (which will hopefully be soon), lots of love,

~Tiffany~


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